Author's Note: Depression has been kicking my ass left and right. But hey, at least this fic is over, right? :P
Scrooge hadn't planned on protecting against someone tunneling beneath the manor and Lena wasn't equipped to handle such a massive endeavor. Webby's heart beat triple time in her chest as she, her grandmother, Lena, Scrooge, and the boys amassed whatever weapons were on hand to deal with this new threat. Webby wasn't sure how well trained the boys were and so she moved protectively in front of Dewey. They both knew that Dewey would be Steelbeak's first target, followed by Agent 22.
The house continued to shake and Webby realized it was going to take hours, if not days, for Steelbeak to successfully tunnel his way beneath the house. As Scrooge had pointed out, there was solid rock beneath the manor and if Steelbeak turned the wrong way, he'd tunnel himself off the cliff. Webby knew they couldn't be so lucky, even if she hoped for it a little. It would solve so many problems if her father accidentally offed himself.
Tension rode high in the manor; they couldn't be on alert all the time. It was exhausting. Therefore, they slept in shifts. Duckworth checked beneath the manor to determine Steelbeak's progress while Scrooge employed Gyro and Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera to head Steelbeak off. Whatever technology the foul fowl had at his disposal could be met and exceeded by McDuck Enterprises. Gyro was confident that they'd be able to prevent him from tunneling underneath completely. It was a matter of catching up to the drills and halting their progress and Steelbeak, in doing this, was as subtle as a brick.
The other problem, as Duckworth reported, was that Steelbeak had to figure out how far to drill beneath before he reversed direction and pushed upward. Evidently, his machines weren't equipped to determine pressure and oxygen levels and such. FOWL had done a rush job on the drills.
None of this comforted Webby too much. She kept pacing, unable to sleep and unable to stop picturing Steelbeak's hands around Dewey's throat as the teenage boy struggled helplessly, dangling off the floor. This wasn't pure imagination on her part. She'd witnessed something similar when she was eight and Steelbeak had scoffed at her nightmares. He'd told her he'd give her something worthy of nightmares. It was true, in that respect. She hadn't slept well for months afterward.
Then there was the time that Steelbeak had shown her where they got their tuna and Webby had been a vegetarian for three months. Come to think of it, her childhood hadn't been all that great. She'd still never eaten a hamburger, though, with FOWL's track record, she feared that hamburger would be a SHUSH agent.
Gosalyn and Darkwing Duck were helping to shore their defenses. After the first hour, Webby had tuned the braggadocious duck out. She didn't need distractions. She had the feeling that although Black Heron was currently incarcerated, Steelbeak might make a trip to free her in time for her to combat Webby and her grandmother. After all, how could they pass up a chance for revenge?
Lena had tried speaking with her, as had Dewey, but their words blurred into the background. Webby couldn't focus on anything. She probably could have used a Xanax to calm her down, but even if she'd had access to something like that, she wouldn't have used it since she was afraid of mind-altering drugs. She needed to keep her wits about her.
All in all, though, it was a tense and uncomfortable waiting period for Steelbeak to make his move. The house trembled, the drill sound went right through them, and the tension was unbearable. She was going to go out of her mind if it lasted much longer.
Unfortunately, as she'd noted with the others, it was impossible to keep one's guard up 24/7. Eventually, fatigue and uncertainty crept in. She'd gone forty-eight hours without sleep before, thanks to Black Heron's sleep deprivation punishment for nightmares when she was six. (Six. What the hell was wrong with that woman?) To be fair, Webby hardly remembered that time, because, one, it had been nine years ago and two, she'd wet herself in terror of Black Heron. Anything that had followed might have been blocked from her memory due to its terribleness.
Thus, when the time finally arrived for Steelbeak to materialize, Webby was nowhere near ready. She had, in fact, passed out in her old bedroom with Dewey holding her hand.
"This is an interesting picture," Steelbeak crooned, looking at his daughter passed out on a too small bed with the object of her interest sprawled out beside her. He was holding her hand and curled up against her. It was almost enough to warm the cockles of his heart, assuming he had a heart. It was, however, enough to make him hesitate for a second. Webby wore a peaceful look he'd never seen on her before and she wasn't crying in her sleep like she normally did. He had the strangest paternal instinct to stroke her hair and leave her alone.
But Dewey was wreaking havoc with Steelbeak's plans for Webby. Moreover, FOWL hadn't succeeded in demolishing Webby's "secret heart"-did she really think he didn't know about that? That was one of his greatest failures, not eliminating it from the start. After all the trauma she'd endured, how could she willingly side with these buffoons? And yet, she looked content.
She whimpered in her sleep and inched closer to Dewey, who in turn wrapped an arm around her. Okay, that was enough lovey-dovey crap. He could shoot the kid in his sleep and let Webby wake up to discover her feathers soaked in his blood. But that wasn't effective enough and it wasn't the way Steelbeak operated. He wanted big, dramatic numbers. He shook the kids roughly awake.
"Rise and shine, campers," he crooned and Dewey yelped. His blue eyes went wide with shock and dismay and he tugged Webby closer to him regardless of the danger.
"You're not getting your hands on her," he told Steelbeak.
"I'm not here for her," Steelbeak said and rolled his eyes. "I'm here for you, dummy."
"Oh," he said and then, as realization dawned on him, "Wait. What?"
"Did you really think I'd leave my granddaughter and Dewey undefended?" Agent 22 called and Steelbeak whipped his head around. It was enough time for Webby to punch him in the back of the head. Good, she was fast. He pivoted, wrapping a hand about Dewey's throat. It was more effective to threaten him than her.
"Put him down," Mrs. Beakley growled. "Now."
In Webby's face, Steelbeak glimpsed dismay and raw terror. Could she actually care about this whelp? It looked like she might. She surged to her feet and dove at Steelbeak with blades flashing under the lights. Steelbeak moved back, wielding Dewey like a shield. It didn't work, however, when he put his back to Mrs. Beakley and she punched him hard in the solar plexus. Gasping, the supervillain went down on his knees and Webby freed Dewey from his grasp.
"Are you okay?" she whispered fiercely.
"Never-" Dewey coughed, choking a little-"better."
"Get out of here," Mrs. Beakley ordered Dewey. "Let us handle him."
She pressed a button on her hip and Steelbeak had to assume she'd summoned backup. Very well, if that was how she wanted to play it. He pressed his backup button too. FOWL should be sending reinforcements any minute now to take down SHUSH. Any minute now…
"I don't want to fight you, kid," he told Webby. "You're my daughter. A little hellraiser like me. But you let Dewford, Lena de Spell, and your grandmother in too far. You should know better than to trust anyone, Webbigail. They'll just use you and spit you out as soon as they're done."
"No," Webby said and her voice trembled. "That's you."
"I'm hurt, Webby," he said. "Really? You think so little of your old man that you think I'd willingly kill someone you cared about just to teach you a lesson?"
"That's exactly what I think," Mrs. Beakley snapped and Steelbeak snarled, pulling out a gun and training it on her chest.
"No one asked your opinion, Agent 22," he snapped back.
"Why should I trust you?" Webby said. "When have you and Black Heron ever done anything but lie to me and mistreat me?"
"We did what we did for the good of FOWL," he retorted. "Because we saw potential in you, potential you're squandering by hanging around with these goody-goodies."
"Black Heron only kept me alive because it amused her," Webby said and she was shaking. "And because she knew if she crossed you, there'd be hell to pay. And then she stopped caring."
Eh, that was entirely possible. More than possible, it was highly likely.
"You could've been so much more and instead, you're throwing it all away," Steelbeak said. "I'll give you one more chance to make things right. Come with me and I'll even let one of them live. You can choose which one."
He spun around, aiming a bullet for Dewey, who flung himself to the floor and avoided the danger. Mrs. Beakley kicked the gun out of Steelbeak's hands and it too went flying; Webby caught it. She looked uneasy; her training hadn't included firearms for fear that she might take revenge.
"I thought she told you to run, kid," Steelbeak said to Dewey.
"I wasn't going to leave Webby," he shot back.
"You're inspiring loyalty," he said. "See? That's a good quality in a leader for FOWL. Look at what you're throwing away, Webby. You're tossing all of this out in exchange for a hug now and then? You don't need affection. You can always hire a hooker for that."
"Are you saying I'm the same as a hooker?" Dewey said and Webby's gaze slid to him.
"Ignore him," Webby advised and her hands shook as she held the gun trained at Steelbeak's broad chest. She didn't want to hurt him; he could see it in her eyes. He advanced, holding out his hand for the gun, but she wouldn't relinquish it. He thought that she might give it to Mrs. Beakley, but not him. Already she trusted her grandmother more than him and he was the one who had raised her.
Moreover, she belonged to him, not to her grandmother. Rage crept in and he knocked the gun out of Webby's hands. Scrooge McDuck stepped into the room and slid the gun along his cane until it fell into his hands. Steelbeak glowered. Where were all of these people coming from? And was that Darkwing Duck and Gosalyn Mallard nearby?
"I am the terror that flaps in the night," Darkwing Duck announced, throwing gas pellets around himself and prompting everyone to cough. "I am the Christmas hold music that you hear in November before Thanksgiving. I am Darkwing Duck!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Steelbeak grumbled. "Don't you ever take a day off?"
"Crime doesn't take a break and neither do I," Darkwing retorted.
"Get a life!" Steelbeak snapped. "You have to have more important things to do than annoy me."
"You'd think so, but, no, not really," Darkwing answered. "This is kinda it."
"If you two are done bantering?" Scrooge snapped. "We have a situation here."
"I get paid by the line," Darkwing said. "Now, where were we? You owe me a buck fifty, Steelbeak. I'm charging you by the line too."
"Would you get a life-" Steelbeak snapped again.
Dewey eased away, rejoining Webby. He held her hand and Steelbeak again had conflicting feelings. He ought to let Webby be happy, even if it wasn't with him. On the other hand, what was happiness against greed and ruling the world? Nothing. Happiness meant nothing to him, so why should it mean anything to his daughter?
Gosalyn had vanished in the meanwhile, which Steelbeak took as ominous. He hated when that little brat disappeared. He pivoted on the spot and then groaned when a frying pan struck him in the face. It sent him to his knees, but it didn't knock him out, not yet.
Where the fuck was his backup?
"The kid is still alive," Black Heron commented and he wished he could move toward her voice, but he was wary of making himself nauseated with more abrupt movements. "You're slipping, Steelbeak. I expected him to be dead already and Webby weeping over his corpse. Could it be that you actually want your daughter to be happy? I'm disappointed in you."
Steelbeak snarled, grabbing Black Heron by the throat. Despite the double vision, he managed to snag her just fine. His eyes blazed and she trembled, possible fear shooting through her. Good. She should know better than to question his authority. That was downright insubordinate.
"Questioning your boss? Not a great idea, Heron," he snapped. "I told you before that Webbigail is mine to do with as I see fit. If I haven't killed Dewey yet, then I have a good reason and you should keep your mouth shut."
He tightened his grip on her throat and she went limp, knowing better than to fight him. In a one on one match, with her concussion, she didn't stand a chance. Moreover, fighting him was a good way to find herself dead by his hand. He had no difficulty killing quarrelsome agents and her constant nattering about Webby had been a thorn in his side for years.
"Should we let them fight amongst themselves or should we break it up?" Dewey asked.
Mrs. Beakley moved up beside them and smirked, delivering a hard punch to Black Heron's skull. Evidently, although Steelbeak was handling the situation, she still wanted revenge. Steelbeak smiled suddenly, malicious and calculating. Black Heron froze.
"I could leave you to Agent 22," he proposed. "After all, she has every reason to see you dead for what you've done to her granddaughter. Give me one good reason I shouldn't feed you to the wolves right now, Heron."
"Because Agent 22 is your enemy too," Black Heron spat, reeling from the blow to the head. She swayed in Steelbeak's grasp and he applied pressure, prompting the woman to gasp.
He tossed her aside carelessly. "Good point. How about this? If you survive the following encounter, I won't kill you. Take it or leave it. That's the best offer you're gonna get all day."
Dizzied and off balance, Black Heron tried to catch herself before she fell but didn't quite manage. Instead, she collapsed to the floor and tried to rise, only to fall back down. Mrs. Beakley rounded on her and, lest Steelbeak think he was in the clear, he found himself faced by Gosalyn, Darkwing Duck, and Webby. Webby? So she had turned traitor. That was a shame. He'd have to kill her now.
"You're rejecting me, after all I've done for you," Steelbeak said, incredulous. "Do you know how many people would've killed to be in your shoes? How many people have killed to be in your shoes? And you're throwing it all away for what? A kid, an old lady, and a two-bit wannabe sorceress? You insult me, Webbigail."
"I never asked to be a FOWL agent," she countered. "I never asked to be your protege. You kidnapped me when I was five. You never gave me a choice in what I wanted to do with my life. Now I'm choosing and it's not you. It's people who love me, who want me for who I am and not who they want me to be. I'm choosing me, Father."
"You're betraying your family to be weak," he shot back. "You really think these people will care for you? Why should they? They barely know you. Your grandmother is clinging to your five-year-old self. Dewey wouldn't recognize you if you vanished for another six months. As for Lena de Spell, she has no real power. Why not align yourself with people who can help you rather than people who hold you back?"
"They're not holding me back," she said. "They're showing me something you never did. Love. Affection. They don't make me feel like a freak for wanting to be happy."
"Happiness isn't everything," he shot back. "You don't really know what'll make you happy. You only think you do because you have no idea what power can do."
"I'm not living the life you want me to," she said and shook her head.
Darkwing Duck and Gosalyn had remained mostly silent throughout this exchange, but Darkwing advanced, shooting his gas gun in Steelbeak's face. Steelbeak swiped at the gas and Darkwing pounced, having no problem seeing and pinning his opponent to the floor. Steelbeak growled, attempting to throw him off, but Gosalyn smacked him in the head with that frying pan again. What the hell. Had she watched too much Tangled?
"You shouldn't have left HQ, Steelbeak," Mrs. Beakley said with satisfaction in her tone. "Because now you won't be back for a very long time."
"How does it feel to be free?" Dewey asked once the dust had settled and everyone was where they ought to be, including Black Heron and Steelbeak in DPD custody.
Webby shook her head. "I don't know yet. Ask me again in a few days when it sinks in."
He wrapped an arm about her shoulders. They were sitting in her bedroom; Scrooge was getting her a new bed since this was obviously too cramped.
"Are you happy?" he asked and she smiled weakly.
"No, but I think I can be," she said. "Once I'm used to it and knowing that I don't have to look over my shoulder anymore or worry about someone coming to kill me when I sleep. Or have to hide my secret feelings or be tortured when I have nightmares…"
He hugged her to him. She could tell he was alarmed by the last admission and she smiled, trying to take the sting out of it.
"Thanks, by the way, for believing me," she said and kissed him on the cheek. "I appreciate it."
"You wanna go do something normal, that teenagers do?" he asked and she cocked her head curiously at him.
"Like what?" she said.
He grabbed her by the hand and tugged her to her feet. "Anything you want. You're free now."
She grinned. "You know what I'd like to try? A hamburger. I've never had one before."
As his look of incredulity, she laughed. It was the first time she'd laughed in a non-malicious way in so long that it was rusty and she was at first confused that she was the one who had chuckled.
"C'mon," she said and beamed at him. "Let's go eat a hamburger."