Hello friend, I am here with a chapter that'll keep you on the egde of your seats! :)

Imagine Coldplay: I...had...to

rosiesj: If the suspense was killing you for the last chapter, I can't imagine this one!

The Not-So-Ultimate Writer: I haven't thought of that Badford/Ending Adventure idea! Smart!

Boss Teal: True, though I expected there would be at least 4. Maybe one season per kid, but ig this season focuses on Webby as well, if you think about it

Gym: I'm sorry! I don't mean for you to cry!

Lilbree: I'm sorry! And it sucks :((

Guest: Oh, it that so? I thought it was being cancelled

ooo

Webby closed the door to her apartment, tired, exhausted, and utterly miserable. She kicked off her shoes, and shrugged off her coat. The weather outside was harsh, as Duckburg was entering Christmas. She froze up when a painful reminder that she was about to enter her fourth year without Dewey crossed her mind.

Louie heard some shuffling from behind him, and he craned his neck to spot Webby, standing near the door, her posture stiff, and her expression emotionless.

"Hey, Webbs!" Louie greeted joyfully, giving her a big hug.

She melted into his embrace, her weary muscles aching from running around the city, looking for the blue triplet. Louie noticed this, and he swiftly carried her, gently dropping her on the couch. She smiled up at him gratefully.

"You okay?" Lena asked, reaching for her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"No," she sighed, accepting the glass of wine Huey poured. "I actually hate my life. I spent all day trying to look for him, but I couldn't find him anywhere."

"Hey, we have to be patient. We have flyers all over the place, with his picture on it. Someone's bound to call soon." Violet offered.

Rubbing at her forehead, Webby tried to push aside the impending headache. Whilst she wouldn't admit it to the others, she was tired, exhausted even; she still wasn't sleeping much, her thoughts too preoccupied with Dewey. It had been a month now, and part of her was starting to lose the hope. It felt like 3 years ago all over again, but she was determined not to break down. She just had to stay strong for a while longer, they would find him.

This time it would be different.

It had to be.

Webby headed towards her bedroom, and changed into a casual hoodie and sweatpants. When she returned to the living room, she wasn't surprised to hear Lena arguing with Louie.

"Don't say that," Louie warned his girlfriend. "Webby's already feeling down enough about the whole thing. Don't make her feel worse!"

"I'm just saying!" Lena snapped right back. "We have flyers posted everywhere, and we haven't gotten one phone call in over a month. There's a good chance after he met Boyd, he got spooked, and left Duckburg," Lena snarled, and in a lower, quieter voice, she added. "It's what he does best."

Webby narrowed her eyes at her, before heading straight to the kitchen area, and turning the kettle on. It had been a long horrible day, and she didn't want to get into another explosive argument with Lena. She knew she didn't completely understand her feelings for Dewey, but that was okay. She didn't have to, but Webby expected her to carry on supporting her.

"What's this?" she asked curiously, as she spotted an envelope sitting on the table.

Her name was neatly printed on it, but there was something about the way it was written, which caused her to frown slightly. A strange feeling rushed throughout her body, although she wasn't sure why…

"Oh, it's from Gosalyn," Huey informed her, his eyes staying fixed on the television. "She gave it to me on Monday."

"Gosalyn?" her frown deepened. What would Gosalyn have to write to her about, and why was the strange feeling intensifying? Picking it up, her stomach tightened as she studied it. "What is it?"

"I don't know, try opening it," Huey sing-songed.

Webby contemplated it for another moment, before slowly turning it over and slicing it open. She carefully removed the neatly folded paper, opening it. As she read the first sentence, her hand flew to her mouth, a gasp escaping her.

"Oh my god," she whispered.

"What?" Lena asked.

Everyone's eyes were on her concerned, but she just shook her head, dazed as she started to tremble.

"Webby?" Violet asked, concerned, as they all started to move closer to her.

"It's… it's from Dewey," she whispered, collapsing onto the nearest wooden chair.

She ignored their surprised murmurs, ignored the kettle whistling and hissing as it reached its peak. Her whole focus was on the paper in front of her. She barely dared to breathe as she desperately took in his words:

Webby,

After a thousand drafts, I still don't know how to start this. I guess 'I'm sorry' should be one of the first things I say to you. I know sorry isn't nearly enough for what I put you through. You have no idea how regretful I am for what I did. I know I was incredibly stupid, but nothing can excuse abandoning my best friends, my family… you.

My purpose in writing this is not to try and open up past scars, or to make you feel guilty, or god forbid hurt you further, that's the last thing I'd ever want to do to you. No, this is to try and explain to you my horrible actions of 3 years ago, and to try and help heal the wounds that I caused in any way I can.

So, the reason, the honest truth of why I did such an inexcusable thing? There's no other way of putting this… I fell in love with you, Webby, utterly and completely. Believe me, I didn't mean to and I tried so hard to fight it but I was weak and you're pretty hard to not fall for. I tried to ignore it though, tried to squish my feelings down but it was impossible and when you and Max got together… I just couldn't deal with it.

I tried, I really did and as over dramatic as this may sound, at the time it felt like my whole world was crumbling down and I simply wasn't strong enough to cope with it. Each time I saw you together, heard you, it killed me, totally destroyed me. It was all too much and I was a coward, I was weak and it eventually wore me down to the point I had to leave, escape before I completely fell apart.

Honestly Webbs, it wasn't an easy decision, I agonized over it but I couldn't see any other way to survive. I felt it was the only choice.

I hope you can believe me when I tell you I thought that by leaving I'd make your lives better too. That you wouldn't have to put up with me and my issues and that you'd eventually forget me, move on with your life. You really should have.

God, I wish I had done so many things differently. I wish I'd managed to stick it out somehow. I wish I'd told you or one of the others instead of trying to deal with it on my own. Above everything, my biggest regret is not explaining it to you, not leaving you a note, something, telling you it wasn't your fault and that your best friend was ditching you because he was a fool. That it wasn't you.

I still think about you every day, Webby, I haven't forgotten you, I couldn't forget you. You've always been at the front of my mind, always there, haunting me, reminding me of what I threw away.

At least now you finally know why.

So there you have it. Everything. My soul bared to you in the hardest letter I've ever had to write…

"Oh my god," Webby gasped as she finished the last couple of paragraphs, her watery eyes leaving the paper to seek out her friends. "He wanted to meet last night, I didn't turn up! He thinks I don't want anything to do with him!"

"Webby, calm down," Violet soothed.

"He thinks I didn't go, because I can't forgive him!" she felt her heart breaking all over again for him. "He spilled his guts out, and he thinks I don't understand; that I'm just cruel enough to not go, and see him. God," she wiped her eyes, her hands trembling not quite believing the situation. "I've been trying to find him for 4 weeks and now…" she trailed off distraught as it started to hit her.

"Webbs, at least we know he's still in Duckburg," Louie tried to comfort her.

"What if it all hinged on last night?" she asked worriedly, panic rising. "What if he was waiting to see my response? What if he's already left because I wasn't there? I–"

"Did he leave an address or contact number?" Huey asked, feeling guilty as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was that important, Gosalyn didn't say—"

"Gosalyn!" Webby acclaimed shooting up from her chair, startling her friends. "It came from Gosalyn, she must have seen him, must know where he is, how to contact him?" She looked so desperate to be right that the others just nodded. "I need to go see her."

"Do you want us to come with you?" Huey asked, but she instantly shook her head.

"What are you going to say if you see him?" Lena asked, but Webby shook her head again as she located her coat and purse.

"I don't know," she confessed, shrugging on her jacket. "I can't think about that right now, I just have to see Gosalyn. I need—"

"We understand," Louie promised. "Go, and good luck."

They all pulled her into a hug, and she drew strength from each of them. She had to keep the faith that she wasn't too late; that she hadn't missed her one chance.

Pulling away she took a deep breath, before running out of the apartment.

ooo

Gosalyn lived in the suburbs: she and Honker owned a nice, big, house, a few minutes away from the city. Webby fondly remembered Gosalyn telling Honker that she refused to raise a kid in the city, and Webby fainty remembered that Honker would come to the city for work. Aside from that, she didn't know much about Gosalyn's husband.

She screeched to a halt in front of the Mallard-Muddlefoot residence, barely caring about her shoddy parking job. Webby leapt out of the car, and furiously knocked on Gosalyn's door.

"Webby?" Gosalyn asked, surprised at the woman on her doorstep. "What are you doing here this late?"

"Uhm…" Webby tried.

Recognizing her distress, Gosalyn quickly let her friend in, shutting the door on the cold late evening air.

"Webby?" she tried again, this time more softly.

"I missed the deadline!" she blurted out suddenly.

"What deadline?" she asked confused, "What are you talking about? Wait, is this about the letter?"

"Yes!" she nodded enthusiastically, "See, Huey only gave it to me tonight, I only just read it, but he said to meet up with him last night. If I wanted to, but I want to, Gosalyn, I really want to! I need to see him, please, do you know where he is?"

Gosalyn blinked, now remembering Webby's incredible ability to babble.

"Wait, he didn't leave any way to get hold of him?" Gosalyn asked, exasperated, "I told him to give you contact details, not some grand meeting! You know how the idiot is with his flair for the dramatic. If he had told me that, I would have delivered it myself. He really gave you less than 24 hours?" she asked in disbelief.

"You've seen him?" Webby whispered, and Gosalyn nodded slowly.

"By accident," she insisted.

"Do you know where he is?" she asked, holding her breath, praying it wasn't too late.

"I—"

"Everything alright?" Honker asked as he entered the room, taking in Webby's current state.

"Do you know where Dewey's staying?" Gosalyn asked her husband hopefully.

"Um," he looked confused, but with the two pairs of eyes staring at him, so full of hope he tried to rack his brain "The hotel on 6th, I think."

Webby felt excitement and trepidation shoot through her. She knew where he was! She was actually going to find Dewey.

"Do you know his room number?" Gosalyn pressed.

"No," Honker shook his head. "He's not a big talker."

Webby frowned, briefly wondering how Honker knew all this, but she couldn't afford to waste anymore time. Dewey was alone and hurting. She'd already waited a month, hell she'd waited 3 years, and now every part of her being was screaming out to find him. To hold him, to have him hold her. To soothe away the pain, to reassure each other, rebuild the foundations, and focus on their future.

"I've gotta go," she headed quickly to their front door. "Thank you."

"Webby," Gosalyn stopped her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "Don't be too hard on him."

"I won't be," her voice cracked, "I can't be. I just need to see him."

Gosalyn searched her eyes for a moment, and then as if satisfied she pulled her into a tight hug. "Good luck."

"Thank you," she pulled away, wiped her eyes, and then quickly left.

Webby soon found herself standing in front of the hotel, with no clear idea of how she'd even gotten there. She stood frozen, as she took in the brightly lit reception lobby, trying in vain to compose herself, to run through what she would say to him but to no avail; she couldn't think straight, her mind whirling, her heart beating wildly.

She couldn't believe this was it. That she was going to see Dewey.

Her Dewey.

Her stomach filled with a thousand butterflies as she tried to put all her energy and focus into that one fact. She was going to see Dewey; nothing else mattered. Nothing else had mattered up until this point.

With a final deep breath, she climbed the couple of steps into the hallway and made it over to the large reception desk. She bit her lips, her hands wringing themselves in nervous anticipation as she waited for the receptionist to finish his call.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" another uniformed man approached.

"Yes, I need to know which room Dewey Duck is in, please?"

"I'm afraid we aren't allowed to give out that kind of information," the man informed her, shaking his head. "We must respect our guests' privacy."

"But he wants to see me," she promised. "Please I need to see him, it's urgent."

He shook his head, "It's against our policy."

"Then you need to pass on a message," she insisted, her voice becoming a little louder, a little more high-pitched as she tried to control herself. "It's important. I need to see him."

"We don't pass on any messages this late in the evening," the man informed her, gesturing to the clock on the wall. It was way after 10PM. "It's against our policy," he repeated.

"There must be something your policy allows?" she snapped, aware, but not caring that she'd caught the attention of the very few people in the abandoned lobby. "Please, at least call him, let him know I'm here, please."

"It's Sunday night, ma'am, we aren't allowed to contact guests this late. If you'd like to leave a message, I can pass it onto him first thing in the morning."

She let out a frustrated growl, as the other receptionist finished his phone call and looked over to the pair.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked.

"Yes!" Webby snapped, "I need to get a message to Dewford Duck, in whatever room number he is. You need to tell him that Webby Vanderquack is here!"

At their taken back expressions, Webby took a deep breath to try to calm herself down. In a much softer tone, she continued:

"Please it's important, really important. It can't wait until tomorrow," she started to feel herself break down, the crazy adrenaline and emotions of tonight finally getting the better of her. She wouldn't let herself believe that she could get this far and fail. That she was in his hotel and wouldn't get to see him. "See, he loves me but we haven't seen each other for 3 years and we were meant to meet yesterday! But I couldn't make it, and I need to see him, need to explain everything and apologize, and see him again. He might leave Duckburg, and never make contact if I don't get to him first. Please you have to help me."

"If it's waited 3 years, it can wait another day," the first man told her, a clear lack of interest or empathy in his voice. "The message will be delivered tomorrow."

"No," she shook her head, tears stinging the back of her eyes, desperate for them to understand. "Please, just tell me which room he is, that's all I need."

"We can't do that." he held his ground.

"Then let me go knock on every door until I find his," she pleaded, and the guy shook his head. "Then I'm staying here in your lobby until the morning, in case he leaves."

"Can't have that." he murmured.

"Please!" Webby snapped.

The phone rang and the second guy answered it, as Webby and the first guy had a stare off. Why couldn't he understand how important this was?

"Jenkins, it's for you."

The first guy stared at her for another beat. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to leave now,"

With that, he dismissed her, turning his back as he took the phone call. She stared at his back hopelessly.

"Steven, I'm taking this in the office, you alright with her?" Jenkins asked.

"Sure," Steven answered easily, watching as the other man left.

"Look," Webby spoke quietly, her voice wavering as she tried to reason with him, hoping he'd be different from his colleague. "I really need to—"

"Room 605," Steven said quickly in a hushed tone. "Take the elevator to the sixth floor, and take the first right."

She stared at him in disbelief, shock running through her.

"W-what?" she asked, choked.

"Go, quickly," the guy insisted, "before Jenkins gets back. I love a good love story. Good luck!"

She couldn't believe it.

She knew where he was.

He was here in this very hotel.

"Thank you, thank you so much," she nodded, offering Steven a watery smile before she hurried to the elevator.

As the doors closed, and the cart started it's smooth climb upwards, her body started to shake and tremble. She couldn't comprehend the enormity of this moment. How desperate she was for this ,and she prayed she wasn't too late. She didn't know what she'd do if that was the case. No, he had to be there. If he had already left, he would have checked out. He had to be there—there was simply no other option.

The elevator pinged loudly, bringing her back to reality, and she commanded her wobbly legs to carry her into the corridor. She turned right as instructed, and slowly counted down the hotel doors until she was there. Room 605.

She stared at the white painted door, complete with its proud shiny gold numbers. Just the other side of it should be Dewey.

Dewey.

With a final steadying breath, she raised her hand holding it centimeters from the door. Her fist was so tight her knuckles were starting to turn white. She could do this. Heart pounding and stomach clenching, she forced her fist to make contact with the door as she held her breath.

ooo

Dewey was on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. The events of last night made his head hurt, and he was ready to leave the city.

Knock, knock, knock

Dewey frowned as he heard the knock, his tired eyes falling on the door. Who could it be at this late hour? Not really wanting to see anyone, he chose to ignore it, and continue brooding. There was another knock, more insistent this time. With a sigh he put out his cigarette, and slowly climbed to his feet.

Another persistent knock.

"I'm coming," he muttered as he headed to the door, unchaining it, and throwing it open. "What do—?" his words froze on his lips as he stood there paralyzed, trying to take in who was on the other side.

Webby.

ooo

andddd I'll leave it off here! :)

Until next time

—Jordan :)