Oh! The plot really thickens now!

Also, whisperwillyou did some really incredible art on Tumblr of Louie listening to the lullaby on his phone and absolutely everyone should go look at it because it's so emotional and splendid and good.

Dewey had been shivering all night and couldn't get warm. He tugged on his layers and shook Louie awake.

"What do you want?"

"Louie, I'm freezing, can I borrow one of your hoodies?"

"Yeah, of course, I don't care, just let me go back to sleep."

"Right. Sorry." Dewey hesitated, tugging one of Louie's hoodies over his outfit and already feeling a little bit better, "Hey, Louie?"

"Yes?"

"Were you actually able to sleep last night?"

"Not much," Louie sighed, sitting up, "I had the weirdest nightmares, dude…"

"Yeah, me too." Dewey peered over to the bunk where Huey and Webby were sleeping and then climbed up on the bed next to Louie, wrapping an arm around him, "Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah, of course."

"I feel really bad about this trip. I didn't, when we started but… It's just been really weird. I feel like we're in over our heads. Like this mystery is gonna solve us, instead of the other way around. No, that's not right. I just… Ugh." Dewey's head drooped, "I don't want to be here."

Louie let out a laugh, "That, my dear Dewford, is how I feel all the time."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Even when it gets hard we have each other. You guys have always had my back and it's not so scary when you know someone is looking after you. This time, I'll have your back. Get some more rest, Dewey. Maybe you'll feel better if you pretend all this is a dream."

Dewey reluctantly nodded, waited until Louie started snoring, and crept out of the cabin, hood up, still shivering.

"Morning, Louie, you're up early," Della greeted him as he entered the dining area in search of breakfast. Dewey knocked his hood off.

"Oh yeah, that makes more sense. Good morning, Dewey. Why're you wearing Louie's clothes? You're not trying to pull a bait and switch, are you? Donald and I used to try to do that. It didn't work very often."

"No, I was just feeling a little cold." His chattering teeth gave him away and Della knelt and felt his forehead.

"Hm, you don't seem to have a fever, but if you're not feeling great feel free to lie down, okay sweetie?"

Dewey nodded, but he really didn't want to lie around right now when his head was still stuffed with nightmares. He must have looked really down because Della pulled him into a hug.

"You can tell me what's going on, Dewey. I'm here for you."

"I had really weird nightmares last night? And I've just felt super uneasy and stuff."

"What were your dreams about? If you feel like telling me."

Dewey closed his eyes and flinched, "They were… They were about Uncle Donald. I kept seeing him drowning. It was terrible…"

Della teared up and held Dewey close, "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." She didn't know what to say. So often she was able to comfort her children, tell them that their nightmares were just scary dreams or that everything was going to be okay. But with Donald, she didn't know. Her brother had disappeared, that didn't just happen to Donald Duck. He didn't give up on his family. For him to be gone, Della couldn't help fearing the worst as well. So she just held Dewey close and rubbed his back until she felt the imprint of tears on her shirt.

Uncle Scrooge came in while she was doing her best to comfort him, murmuring nonsense in a soothing tone.

"Louie, you should really be wearing a life jacket."

"It's Dewey," Della said, "He was cold."

"Ah. Maybe I should get you a blue hoodie. And you should still be wearing a life jacket."

Dewey grumbled but put one on, his heart aching when he thought about how similar Uncle Scrooge's little nagging was to Uncle Donald's frantic overprotectiveness. He missed Uncle Donald so much, he knew they all did but it felt stronger now, more painful. It had been a while since they'd been on a boat. Della had started sleeping in the mansion instead of the houseboat, closer to the boys, when they found out that Uncle Donald had never made it to the cruise. When they found out that the last time anyone had seen him, he was leaving the moon, dangerously hurtling towards earth. That had somewhat broken them. Because he never would've stopped trying to get back to them, which meant that the only alternative was that he was dead.

Dewey shook out his whole body like he was trying to shake the sadness out of him, looking around.

"What's for breakfast?" He had to focus on something other than death.

"Oatmeal," Scrooge said.

"Gross, but okay." Dewey sat next to Della and ate his breakfast, and eventually, Huey and Webby trickled into the dining hall, also instructed to put on life jackets and given oatmeal and reminders.

"You really shouldn't wander around the boat alone. Always pair off." Scrooge did a little headcount, frowning, "Where's Louie?"

"I'll go check on him," Della said, but Dewey popped up instead.

"I'll go. I know he had bad dreams last night too. I'm sure he's just taking a little extra time to rest." Dewey noticed Huey frown when he mentioned nightmares, maybe his older brother hadn't slept as easily as he assumed. They'd have to talk about it later.

"Alright. Tell him he needs to eat breakfast."

Dewey laughed a little, knowing Louie would be just as excited about oatmeal as he'd been.

As he walked down the long corridors, still shivering despite everything he'd done to warm up, he hummed to himself as he walked, making up a theme song to make the eerie hallways feel a little less threatening. He turned the corner, walking past the wheelhouse, surprised to find it vacant. Then a figure flickered into view, gripping the wheel. Almost transparent and wearing the ragged clothes of a sailor who had been out at sea for far too long.

"H-hey! Is someone there?" Dewey called, forgetting the warnings, that he shouldn't be alone on the ship. His room really wasn't that far away, he could run and get Louie, or he could head back upstairs and tell the grown-ups he'd seen something weird. Or he could've chalked it up to part of the nightmare and gone back to bed but instead he called out, and the figure turned.

"Kids? Kids!?" The figure shrieked, Dewey's heart leaping into his throat as he recognized the decrepit apparition.

"Uncle Donald?"

"Kids!" Donald screamed, lunging for Dewey as Dewey fell to his knees, reaching out for him, reaching, reaching, pulled back, pulled under, by some invisible force. The air felt especially heavy, and Dewey began to cough, feeling like there was water in his lungs, weeping when he realized he was alone.