She didn't know what was going on, only that Louie appeared to be fading before her eyes. Being able to see him took a backseat to his form rippling and wavering. Then that, too, ended up being displaced by him kissing her. Of all the outcomes she could've foreseen from this situation, his kissing her was not among them.
But there he was, kissing her, holding her in his arms as though she was the one about to fade into oblivion. She brushed against his neck with a feather-light touch and she could feel his heart pounding against her chest. She could taste that strange stew along his beak and feel him shaking as he clutched her. Of the three triplets, she never would have imagined it was Louie harboring feelings for her. Then again, he could be fairly adept at concealing his vulnerability if push came to shove.
He smelled a little sweaty and one of his hands left her back to run through her hair. Feeling as though she was about to take a plunge too, she kissed him back. It was her first kiss and she hadn't imagined it being in such a strange place, either. If none of this ever happened, if they fixed the timeline, would that mean that Louie's kiss wouldn't have happened either?
That idea didn't appeal to her. At all. She kissed him back harder as if the ineluctable future could be altered to suit them. Her hand fisted into his hoodie, at least as tight as his hand in her hair. She'd closed her eyes, to better feel his beak against hers, and she found herself inching closer to him until they were pressed tightly up against each other. She was practically in his lap at this point.
Eventually, they'd have to come up for air and she was distantly aware of Huey complaining about them making a scene. They ignored him. Her hand trembled on his neck and she wished she could pull him into her to prevent him from evanescing. Despite the strict hold, he wasn't complaining or moving backward. He feared to lose her just as much she feared to lose him.
She didn't want to risk that. Perhaps if she clutched him to her, he couldn't disappear. Perhaps all it took was sheer willpower to defy the fates. Louie's arm was tight about her back and she could both hear and feel his trembling breath. They broke apart, gasping, and rested their foreheads together. For a minute, there seemed nothing to say. Their gazes linked.
"Webby, I…" Louie faltered, unwilling or unable to say more.
"There's nothing like a life or death situation to get the blood pumping, eh, lad?" Scrooge teased and Webby turned her head to spy the older Scrooge smirking at them.
"We're in danger of disappearing," Huey objected. "What is going on in the future, in our present?"
"My guess would be that if young Scrooge here bites the dust, something-something you three won't be hatched," Goldie suggested. "But only you three. Not the girl."
"So...how long have you had feelings for Webby?" Dewey asked in a would-be casual voice. Louie still wasn't releasing her. He'd stopped flickering, to her profound relief. For the time being, all three boys appeared stable. Of course, that could change at any minute. She hadn't realized that their future was as fickle as all that.
"How would Scrooge not getting his fortune affect us when we're not directly related to him?" Huey inquired.
"Your father must be someone I met with Della and Donald," older Scrooge mused. "If I didnae live to do that, then I couldnae have taken Della and Donald in and she never would have met him."
"...wait. You're telling me even you don't know who our father is?" Louie said, pulling away slightly from Webby but still holding onto her. He wrapped an arm about her waist.
"It's not like Della confided everything to me!" older Scrooge snapped, defensive.
The younger Scrooge caused a slight diversion by coughing up blood and then passing out on Goldie's bed. Goldie groaned, eying the blood on her bedspread with distaste. Webby wasn't sure whether the irritation was real or feigned. Then again, she also didn't know deeply Goldie's real feelings ran for Scrooge and being aware that she could backstab them at any time was putting Webby on edge almost more than the idea of losing the triplets.
"I just cleaned those sheets," Goldie huffed. "We'd better find out what's wrong with him."
"Maybe it's nothing serious," Dewey said and the others stared at him. "What? Someone has to be hopeful, right?"
"I doubt Uncle Scrooge would be coughing up blood if it weren't serious," Huey pointed out darkly.
"If it's a magical affliction, how are we supposed to help?" Webby fussed. They heard a faint chiming, which was odd because there were no clocks nearby. Puzzled, Webby exchanged glances with the triplets and then Uncle Scrooge. She wasn't sure why she'd heard a clock or why it looked like their various disabilities had faded for the time being, though she wasn't complaining about the latter. The former, however, was rather peculiar.
"Isn't there a counterspell? Or something else we can try?" Louie asked and Webby frowned, thoughtful.
"There might be, but I don't have the books...they're at home," she said. "Not that I've been looking at magic books. Why would I be looking at magic books? Because I'm not."
"Wow, just when I think your lying can't get any worse," Louie said, shaking his head.
"I'll be upset about that later," Uncle Scrooge said, sounding aggrieved. He glanced at his younger self. "Aye, but Louie might have a point. There must be a counterspell. Or some way to fix this."
The clock sounded again, and Scrooge cocked his head.
"That sounds like the clock in my parlor…" he said, frowning. Before he had a chance to ruminate further, a figure came crashing through Goldie's roof and landed in a heap on the floor. It took a few minutes for the dust to settle and when it did, Webby blinked, certain her vision was acting up. The boys' uncle Donald was pushing himself to his feet and spoiling for a fight, yet there was no one to fight here. He had his fists balled and swept his gaze over the assembled group.
"Donald?" Scrooge said, incredulous.
"What's going on?" Donald demanded. "I thought the kids were in trouble."
"We are," Huey said. "We're in danger of disappearing. But Uncle Scrooge is the main problem."
He pointed to Scrooge's younger self, who had curled into a ball and was coughing non-stop. They were the horrible coughs that fed off each other, each one engendering another worse than the previous one. They were wet sounding, too, producing more blood. Donald flinched. He glanced from the older Scrooge back to the younger and then to the kids.
"What's going on in the future?" Dewey asked. His voice remained quiet and Webby knew that the other two hadn't recovered from Magica's afflictions, not entirely.
"Glomgold's the richest duck in the world-and Della-" Donald stopped, throat too tight to speak. Webby hugged Louie to her and Dewey and Huey came closer so they could all hug. All three trembled, fearing the rest of that sentence, though whether Donald could choke it out, she didn't know.
"Mom's gone," Dewey said in a small voice and a world of pain was within it. Webby's throat tightened too in response. She hated that the boys were so miserable.
"If you weren't the richest duck in the world, you couldn't afford to keep the rocket running on gold," Donald said quietly to Scrooge. "And you couldn't afford all the top-notch parts for the Spear. Della didn't make it off Earth. She crashed and burned."
Louie clamped his beak shut tight, but a whimper escaped anyway. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and then slid down his cheeks.
"Mom's not dead, though," Huey said.
"Technically…" Webby started and then stopped, noticing the dirty looks she was getting. Even though her vision remained hazy, she could see well enough for that. What she was going to say was that technically, they didn't know if she was alive in their proper timeline, either. Ashamed, she lowered her gaze.
"She's been gone for twelve years, Huey," Donald said heavily. "And no one ever found any trace of her."
"She's not dead," Scrooge insisted.
"Glomgold and Magica rewrote the timeline so she is," Dewey whispered and his lower beak quivered too. He pressed his face into Webby's shoulder.
"How are you going to fix this?" she asked Donald quietly.
Throughout this all, Goldie was quiet. Webby had almost forgotten she was there, but not quite. Her senses were not that selective as to ignore a possible threat.
"Magica must be in the past right now," Scrooge hypothesized. "Or the timeline wouldn't keep fluctuating."
"So now we have to find her," Goldie said and the others glanced at her. Donald stiffened when their eyes met. Webby wondered what Goldie had or hadn't done to him (and Della, for that matter).
"And if I were a conniving, backstabbing shrew with too much time on my hands, where would I go?" Scrooge mused.
"She can't be in the gold mine," Huey said. "We just checked there for the younger uncle Scrooge. And it collapsed before we left."
"Then where?" Donald asked, eying Scrooge.
"You have a cottage around here too," Goldie said. "You weren't shacking up with me, that's for sure."
"So we need to find it," Huey said. He was still talking a little loudly, which was making everyone else speak louder to compensate. It hurt Webby's ears and threatened to give her a headache.
"Good thing I still remember where it is," Scrooge said. He glanced at Donald and then, to Donald's surprise, clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad you came here, lad. You're the one able-bodied person here I can trust."
"I'm able-bodied," Goldie huffed, looking affronted.
"Aye, that you are. No one ever said I could trust you, though," Scrooge pointed out.
"What happened to the kids?" Donald asked, suspicious.
"Louie's leg is broken, I'm half-deaf, Webby's half-blind, and Dewey can barely speak," Huey answered.
"What?!" Donald squawked. He looked ready to throw down again and was hopping up and down in agitation. "She did what?"
"Relax, Uncle Donald," Louie said. "Once we fix the timeline, all of this will go back to normal. None of it will have ever happened."
Webby looked away. She didn't want all of it to never happen. Okay, yes, the injuries were one thing. But the kiss? Would she forget that they'd kissed and that he had feelings for her too? What if it took them months or even years to figure out what was going on? She didn't think she could bear it.
"Then let's go," Donald said, still eying everyone suspiciously. He scooped Louie up like the boy weighed nothing at all and carried him in his arms. She knew he wouldn't have offered to walk instead, especially considering his difficulties, but she almost felt like she could already sense the separation growing between them. She cast her gaze downward.
Yes, okay, it was a big deal to her. She'd never been around kids her own age, not locked up in McDuck Manor, and the triplets were close to her. She didn't want to lose them in any respect. Plus, Louie was her first real crush, besides her first kiss. She didn't want to lose that feeling, either.
"We'll be okay, Webs," Louie said as if sensing what she was thinking. "Chill."
"I don't want to forget about all of this!" she burst out.
"How about this?" Huey suggested. "We'll make the younger Scrooge write himself a note later telling him what happened so he can warn him."
"That could work," Louie agreed. Webby wasn't reassured, however. Why would Scrooge tell himself that his grand-nephew had a crush on his housekeeper's granddaughter? That wasn't important to him. Still, she nodded along. Better to keep it to herself than to make a scene, even if she was miserable.
Flintheart Glomgold stared blankly at where Donald Duck had stood. The clock's hands were set to twelve and eight, but he didn't know what that meant. Although he'd inherited the manor, he didn't know how half of the magical things worked. However...he had an idea of what might prevent them from ever coming back.
He grinned wickedly. Magica wouldn't bring them back and if he destroyed the clock, he'd strand them in the past. That way, Scrooge McDuck would never amass his fortune, he'd never become the richest duck in the world, and Flintheart Glomgold would finally win. Yes, he liked that idea very much. He was so glad he'd thought of it.
Grabbing a ceremonial sword from a nearby hallway, he walked back into the sitting room and leered at the clock. Mrs. Beakley had gotten lazy, anyway. This would be one less thing for her to dust if he ever convinced her to return. Then again, if Scrooge was trapped in the past, maybe Glomgold could steal his housekeeper for good too. It'd be another victory, another notch on his belt.
Raising the sword up high, he brought it crashing down through the clock's middle. Magic fizzed and sparked, sending shockwaves everywhere. The rug caught fire beneath his feet and he yelped, jumping about. Nonetheless, he proceeded to finish his swing and severed the clock neatly in half. The two halves remained standing for a few seconds before falling to either side.
There. Let Scrooge McDuck fix that. He couldn't. He would be stranded, along with his family. It served him right, after all.
It was a shame about Della, though. While he'd never liked her particularly, he'd never borne a grudge against her, either. But he supposed there were bound to be casualties in this particular fight and if Scrooge lost family members, well, then, that was his problem. Not Glomgold's.
With that finished, he set about using his DT-87 'droids to isolate any problematic visitors. He found Mrs. Beakley, Launchpad, Gyro, and Fenton lurking nearby. Hmm, maybe letting them off the leash hadn't worked. He'd be better suited to keep them close at hand.
And what were they going to do, anyway? There were no magic books in the house. Scrooge McDuck hated magic in all of its forms. It wasn't like someone had snuck books into the house right under his nose.
He was also certain that Scrooge must've devised a way to hold people hostage in his house. Glomgold had, after all, so it stood to reason that Scrooge would've thought of it first. Never mind that Scrooge had never seemed that devious-if Glomgold had done it, then Scrooge must've too.
Besides, at least with them all under his roof, he could keep an eye on them. They'd plotted against him, after all. And they might still want to rescue the others. He didn't care what happened to the kids, either. They weren't important.
He kept his eyes on the prize, where it belonged. All's fair in love and war, after all.
"Oh, no," Donald mumbled. He felt the instant that the clock broke and stranded him there. He was still carrying Louie and he wasn't sure whether to be mildly grateful to Magica for at least putting Louie's leg in a flimsy cast or vexed that she'd broken his leg in the first place. He cuddled his nephew close to him and Louie wrapped his arms about his neck like he was a small child again.
"What is it?" Webby asked. She'd stuck close to Donald and Louie ever since the kiss. "What's wrong?"
"The clock," Donald said. "The clock's gone."
"The clock's gone?" Scrooge demanded and Donald nodded. Scrooge muttered imprecations Under other circumstances, he knew the triplets might've been interested in that. However, they had more important things to worry about. Besides which, Huey and Dewey had to keep Webby from accidentally wandering off the beaten path or tripping over something she couldn't see.
"You mean the time machine clock?" Webby asked.
"Yeah," Donald said.
Scrooge cursed again.
"You know the kids are here, right?" Donald said. For some reason, he wasn't angry. Instead, he was exasperated and fatigued. Seeing Louie in that predicament had incensed him and now his anger was ebbing and flowing, temporarily shoved to the back until he could vent his spleen on Magica. He had to be careful how he moved, anyway, to avoid jostling Louie.
"Yes, so?" Scrooge replied, testy.
"So, you might not want to paint them a picture of every vulgar term you can think of," Goldie commented. She was bringing up the rear.
"Curse me kilts," Scrooge muttered. "Good point."
Donald didn't miss that his uncle occasionally swayed or that he'd turned to cough up more blood. It made his heart pound and he was frantic about everyone here, except for Goldie. With his free hand, he patted Webby's head. The girl was preoccupied with other matters.
"That's an impressive amount of smoke," Goldie whistled.
Donald glanced behind them to ensure that the other two boys were keeping pace and then blinked. They were gone. Webby stumbled and he threw out his arms to catch her. His arms were empty too. Louie had likewise vanished.
"Oh, no…" Webby breathed. "Oh, no, no, no. Huey! Dewey! Louie! The timeline must've resolved itself! Without them!"
She struggled, frantic, and Donald, stunned, released her. The boys were gone. The boys were his whole reason for living. They had helped him cope with Della's disappearance. He had dedicated his life to them. How could they be gone, just like that?
"We'll get them back, lad," Scrooge promised.
Webby was tearing off down the trail toward the cottage without being able to see where she was going and Donald stared for a minute. She tripped, skinned her knees, and then sprang back up, undeterred. He could see why Louie liked her so much. She reminded him of Della. Della. Oh God.
He bolted after Webby.
"Would you slow down?" Scrooge demanded though he had little difficulty keeping pace with Donald. "I…"
He trailed off. The cottage was on fire, large smoke clouds billowing. If Magica had been there, she wasn't now, and they had no leads. And the boys were gone. Even though he knew they hadn't lost, not yet, it certainly felt like they had.