Author's Note: Second to last chapter. The sequel is in the works and the first chapter will be out in a couple weeks. :P

Now that she had Webby back, she was reluctant to let her out of her sight. With a few misgivings, she'd brought her granddaughter with her into SHUSH HQ. Webby was fussing with a piece of paper Dewey had given her; despite their previous assurances, she was on edge. The full day's worth of sleep might have helped her somewhat, but being told that Dewey would die regardless had to have worn the effects away. Mrs. Beakley wouldn't tolerate anyone touching the boys and Webby knew that, but she didn't trust her grandmother as she should.

They were waiting for Ludwig Von Drake to welcome them into his office. Gosalyn and Darkwing were there, the latter as usual making a fool of himself. He'd started playing with an exploding pack of cards which had, predictably, exploded in his face. Mrs. Beakley sighed, ignoring him.

Webby looked all around the waiting room; there were plaques and awards on the walls and in cases. Mrs. Beakley had seen them so many times that her gaze skipped over them. Webby jumped to her feet to inspect a picture on the wall of her mother and Mrs. Beakley. Judging by the expression on her face, Webby had never seen a picture of her mother before.

"You are on our side, right?" Gosalyn asked and, reluctantly, Webby dragged her attention away from Wren's face.

"I'm not joining up with FOWL again," Webby said and Mrs. Beakley heard the warning note in her voice. She balled her fists and then, with an effort, unclenched them.

Gosalyn looked like she wanted to pry further. She stepped up to the other girl and Webby glowered, not budging an inch. Mrs. Beakley saw the bags under Webby's eyes and knew that a good night's rest didn't eradicate possibly years of sleep debt. And probably sleep deprivation too, if Mrs. Beakley had to hazard a guess.

"You grew up with them," Gosalyn pointed out.

Webby glowered back. "Not willingly."

Mrs. Beakley rapped her cane against the floor and Gosalyn startled. Webby didn't; her eyes narrowed. Instead, turning her back on Gosalyn, she resumed staring at Wren's picture. Mrs. Beakley moved to join her.

"She died not long after you were hatched," Mrs. Beakley said softly. "She didn't think she'd be a suitable mother for you and left before you hatched."

"I never met her, then," Webby said softly.

"She panicked when she laid your egg," Mrs. Beakley said. "She was afraid Steelbeak would come after you and that you'd suffer for her mistake."

"And she was right…" Webby whispered.

"If she had come to me in the first place, none of this would have happened. We could have protected her."

She put an arm about Webby's shoulders and Webby flinched. She hadn't been expecting the touch; she seemed to be as touch deprived as Lena had been. Unable to resist, Mrs. Beakley hugged her again. Normally, she wasn't much for physical affection, but Webby needed it. She stroked her granddaughter's locks.

"I'm sorry for what Steelbeak and Black Heron put you through," she said softly.

Webby touched the phone in her pocket. As far as Beakley knew, FOWL hadn't called her again after issuing the last ultimatum. That didn't stop her from worrying about whether they'd contact her again.

"I hope that, in time, you'll trust me enough to tell me what happened."

Webby didn't respond; her gaze remained hooked onto Wren's face. There were similarities between herself and her mother and Webby looked like she wanted to reach back through time and retrieve her. Mrs. Beakley rubbed Webby's shoulders.

They stood there, silent until Ludwig appeared. Webby looked relieved, perhaps just glad for an excuse not to have to reply. Then again, after the initial relief faded, she appeared like she was walking to the gallows again. Bentina wasn't sure whether Lena had emphasized how much SHUSH were the good guys, but it didn't appear that Webby entirely believed that. Then it would be up to her and Ludwig, as well as Gosalyn and Darkwing, to impress that upon her.

They filed into the room and Ludwig snapped up a gizmo from Darkwing before he ended up setting himself on fire or some such sense. Gosalyn settled beside her father and Webby remained standing, leaning against the chair and wary of putting her back to the door or to anyone in the room.

"Make yourself comfortable, Webbigail," Ludwig said.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Perhaps we ought to get to business then?" Ludwig said, unconvinced. "Darkwing Duck and Gosalyn, I'm not sure your presence here is necessary."

"You aren't afraid she's going to snap?" Gosalyn asked and Webby's eyes narrowed.

"She won't," Ludwig said. "If you two would please wait outside…?"

Gosalyn huffed, tugging her father out before he started on the Rubix cube that probably had further inappropriate weaponry on it. Mrs. Beakley breathed easier once they'd left, although neither Mallard looked happy about it. Once they had gone, Webby reluctantly sat down a chair apart from her grandmother. She kept touching her waist; they hadn't allowed her to keep her daggers to enter SHUSH. Webby was so dependent on her blades that being without them made her uneasy. Mrs. Beakley didn't want to contemplate a world in which Webby only felt comfortable armed.

"I'm glad you've decided to meet with us," Ludwig told Webby.

Webby didn't respond. Her knuckles had gone white clutching the chair. All of that conditioning had her thinking that SHUSH was the enemy and would hurt her. A few days wouldn't erase ten years of propaganda. Gosalyn had been concerned that Webby might do an about-face. To Mrs. Beakley's mind, it seemed more likely that Webby would shrink away and refuse to speak.

"You're safe here," he pressed. "FOWL can't penetrate these quarters. And with your assistance, we can take down Steelbeak. You can be free for the first time in ten years, Webbigail."

Webby's gaze darted about the room and Ludwig seemed to suppress a sigh. "I promise you nothing will happen to you."

"How do you know?" she asked softly. "Anything could happen. And the others are still in danger because of me."

"We won't let anything happen to them," he reassured her. "And believe me, McDuck Manor has quite a prodigious security system. Mr. McDuck can be rather paranoid.

"You have agreed to take our offer, haven't you?" he pressed.

"I don't want to rat out FOWL," she said softly. Her knuckles tightened on the chair. "But I can't go along with them anymore."

"You don't have any loyalty toward them, do you?" he asked anxiously.

Webby frowned, gnawing her beak. After a minute, she shook her head. Mrs. Beakley sighed, relieved. She hadn't thought that Black Heron and Steelbeak had inspired loyalty, but it was hard to tell since Mrs. Beakley knew next to nothing about her granddaughter's upbringing. She reached out for Webby's hand and Webby moved out of the way.

"Trust, however, must be built from the ground up," Ludwig concluded, frowning too. "What can you tell us about FOWL?"

"What did you want to know?" she asked softly. She wasn't challenging him; her gaze was focused downward.

"Do you know how many active agents there are? Other than Black Heron and Steelbeak, who else might be considered the most dangerous? What did your training consist of? Things like that."

Mrs. Beakley gave Webby an encouraging smile. Webby hesitated still. Her legs were crossed and though she didn't sense the same tension that compelled her to bolt two days ago, she was uneasy. That much Mrs. Beakley could tell. Any deeper emotions, unfortunately, remained hidden to her. She didn't know Webby's mannerisms anymore, not after that long a separation. It hurt.

"The other agents come and go," Webby said, staring at the hardwood table in front of her. "I was mostly kept isolated. A lot of the agents dislike kids."

She looked up and her beak quirked. "Even Black Heron and Steelbeak aren't too fond of kids."

"You refer to Steelbeak by his name. He didn't let you call him 'Dad'?" Ludwig pressed.

Webby shook her head. "He calls himself my father, but I wasn't allowed to call him that. He didn't want me to feel like I had an advantage or would get any leniency."

"What compelled them to let you leave HQ for your mission?"

"Steelbeak thought it was time for me to prove myself," Webby said. Her head dropped again. "And I failed."

"You didn't fail," Mrs. Beakley said fiercely. "You proved that your conscience and your goodness are stronger than FOWL's conditioning. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Bentina is right," Ludwig said. "There is nothing wrong with being fundamentally good, Webbigail. It's remarkable considering what you endured growing up."

Webby looked up and her expression was anguished. "I was taught for ten years that I shouldn't hesitate or overthink anything."

"A good agent always thinks of others," he replied. "And he always debates whether what he's doing is right. You're not a psychopath. You couldn't kill with a clear conscience. Did you want to?"

Webby seemed to shrink deeper into the chair. "No."

"But you were raised to think such behavior was aberrant."

"Yes."

Mrs. Beakley wanted to reach for her again but doubted she'd reciprocate or permit her to touch her. Webby's guard had gone up again and it'd take a while to break it down. She envied Dewey his ease when he barely knew her. Something in Dewey had gotten through to Webby where Mrs. Beakley, her own flesh and blood, had failed.

"We'll work on that," he informed her. His tone was softer than normal. "I understand your reticence. Regardless of whether you feel loyalty toward them, they did help raise you."

Mrs. Beakley clenched her fists. After they had abducted her and brainwashed her, that was. Ludwig was giving FOWL too much credit. Should she be grateful that they hadn't left Webby to die of exposure?

Webby nodded.

"Do you know which operatives they'd send if Steelbeak comes in person?" he prodded and Webby frowned, gesturing for a pen and paper. Clearly, she worried that FOWL might be able to penetrate these walls or have her bugged.

Once she'd finished the list, she pushed it back toward Ludwig, who scanned the names. He nodded.

"That's a good start," he told her. "Would you like a tour of the facility? You might be working with us one day."

Webby shook her head. She still had that hollow, haunted look and Mrs. Beakley had the sense they were pushing her too far too soon. She rose to her feet with the cane's assistance and squeezed Webby's shoulder. Webby glanced back at her and she looked shocked. How often had Steelbeak touched her in a conciliatory manner? Had he ever done so?

"We'll be in touch," Ludwig said. "I applaud your courage, young lady."

"It's not courage," Webby said softly. "I can't lose Dewey or Granny again."

Ludwig smiled. "It's a start."

Webby hugged herself as they went out. To herself, almost inaudible, she added, "It's a start, but it's not enough."

Back at the manor, Webby had the sense that the jaws of a trap were closing in on her. Yes, Ludwig, as well as others, had reassured her that nothing was going to happen. FOWL was in no way going to get its satisfaction. The problem was that she didn't believe them. She'd spent ten years hearing SHUSH undermined. It was hard to have faith in someone she'd always considered inferior. It was equally hard to have faith in a security system she knew next to nothing about when someone breaching it could mean death for the boys and Mr. McDuck. Her grandmother could handle herself and the ghost butler was already dead. She didn't want to be responsible for Dewey's demise, either directly or indirectly and the same held true for his brothers.

She agreed to whatever plan her grandmother had concocted regarding Steelbeak without hearing any of it. Once they were finished, she rushed to her room and paced. Again, its ill-fitting nature bugged her. This was the home of a five-year-old, not a fifteen-year-old. She couldn't imagine how she'd been back then. It belonged to a different life, a different Webby. A Webby that had faith in her grandmother, for one thing.

Lena would be helping defend the manor and Webby wasn't sure how she felt about that either. Provided Magica didn't materialize, Lena's powers ought to be sufficient. That assumed that Lena's powers didn't derive from Magica's proximity, seeing as Lena was formerly Magica's shadow. Magic was annoying that way.

She pulled out her cell phone. Did Steelbeak know when she listened to the voicemails? She knew he'd heard them, that he could access her phone at will. If she was going to betray them, should she bother holding onto the phone? It wasn't like Dewey wasn't down the hall if she wanted to speak to him. Of course, if anything happened to him, that might be her only record of him.

She sighed, plopping onto the too small bed. She'd already taken the first steps toward betrayal. What were a few more? If she didn't betray them, she'd lose the people she cared about, few though they were. It was designed to turn her into the ruthless killer Steelbeak wanted, that he hadn't been able to culture before. It'd been a mistake to let her out into the real world without restraints.

A knock came at the door and she jumped to her feet, reaching for weapons she no longer possessed. Hissing, she yanked open the door and discovered, to her consternation, Huey on the other side.

"Huey?" she said, correctly identifying the triplet by his red hat and red shirt. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," he said and then grimaced. "Obviously, I mean. Or I wouldn't be standing here."

"About what?" she asked, cautious.

"You're really working with SHUSH, aren't you? You're not going to sell us out to get a better deal, are you?" he blurted. He was so earnest, like Dewey; unlike Dewey, she heard the desperation behind it. He was afraid of her. It stung a little, but it made sense. She'd given him no reason not to fear her.

"FOWL has nothing I want," she said. She folded her arms across her chest and then lowered her arms. She didn't want to give off the wrong impression via body language. "And...I don't know if I want to stay here, but I don't want to lose Dewey. Or Lena. Or even my grandmother."

What was left of her heart couldn't bear the thought. She felt cold suddenly and rubbed her arms. Huey gestured for her to let him in and she did, albeit with misgivings. She didn't trust him, despite knowing he couldn't possibly hurt her. He had the look of someone who spent most of his time buried in a book. That made him a kindred spirit, in a way. She'd spent a lot of time buried in books to escape reality too.

"You're scared," he said.

She turned away from him. "I'm not scared."

And even though she was, she had no intention of opening up to him about it. Instead, she glanced out at her playroom. Even the name sounded ridiculously juvenile. She walked over to her Quacker Patch kid and picked it up. Her grandmother had had it commissioned to look like her. Webby remembered that now. She'd been so chuffed to receive it.

"It's okay," he said. "I understand. This is a big deal. But, you know, if you choose to stay here after this, we can be friends. If you want."

This surprised her and she turned about to look at him. "Why?"

"Because you look like you could use a good friend," he said and then blushed. "And Dewey's auditioning for your boyfriend, it looks like."

Webby blushed too, recalling his embrace and the kiss from a couple nights ago.

"I'm just saying that the offer's out there," he finished.

"Thank you," she said. Even though she'd been raised in a supervillain lair, she was polite. She didn't get that from Steelbeak-Black Heron had drilled it into her, for no real reason Webby could discern. Maybe she thought Webby shouldn't be as rude as her father.

"I guess I'll go now," he said and ducked out. She watched him go and glanced back at her doll. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she plopped the doll into her lap.

"Well, past me, what do you think?" she said once Huey had left and closed the door. "Should I trust them?"

Past Webby wasn't talking. No surprise there. Another knock came at the door and Webby stiffened, wielding the doll like a weapon.

"Webby?" her grandmother called.

"Hi, Granny," she said softly, subdued. Her grandmother entered the room and frowned.

"I need to order a bigger bed for you," she said.

"If I stay," Webby said and her grandmother's frown deepened.

"Why wouldn't you stay?" she objected.

"This doesn't feel like home to me," she said. Then again, FOWL HQ hadn't really felt like home, either. They'd done their utmost to keep her on her toes and prevent her from really belonging. The fact was she didn't remember what it felt like to relax enough that she could properly feel at home anywhere.

"Home isn't a place," her grandmother said. "It's a feeling. And it's something that needs to be cultivated. We'll do whatever it takes to make you feel like you belong here."

"What makes you so sure I won't sell you out?" Webby asked. "Huey wanted to know that too."

"Because I saw the way you treated Dewey and the way you reacted to him, Lena, and myself. You have a good heart, Webbigail, even if it's buried because of FOWL. You're still a good person. And you don't have it in you to betray everyone for the sake of a small gain, especially when it means compromising everything you hold dear."

"If Mr. McDuck didn't want me to contact him or his family, why is he letting me stay here?"

"Because you're family," she said softly and brushed back Webby's hair. She sat beside her on the bed. "He was worried you might attack me again or hurt Dewey. His reactions weren't entirely logical and I might have gone behind his back to speak with you earlier."

A lump formed in her throat and tears pricked her eyes. She wasn't sure why, but she hugged her grandmother tightly. Her grandmother rested her chin on Webby's head.

"Sssh," she soothed. "It'll all work out. You belong here. You deserve happiness too."

Webby's beak quirked. After so long, she wasn't sure she remembered what happiness was anymore.

The house rumbled and they both jumped to their feet. Webby assessed the room for any potential weapons and Mrs. Beakley scowled, handing Webby what looked like a solid brass desk lamp. Webby unplugged it and hefted it, testing its weight. It would suffice, assuming that whatever was coming could be knocked out in that manner. It felt like someone was drilling beneath the house.

"We'd better check the security system," Mrs. Beakley said, scowling. "Because I believe Steelbeak has just made his first move."