I actually had this chapter written very quickly after the last one, but I didn't get the chance to post chapter 2 on Tumblr before my phone broke so I waited until I got a new phone.

Once again many thanks to Tumblr user whisperwillyou for letting me play with this idea. I'm starting to really get a feel for this story and I'm kind of excited to see where it takes me next.

Should I outline? Yes. Should I spend more time with characters other than Louie and Dewey? Yes. Don't worry, fun stuff is on the horizon. ;)

Louie was the first to hear the wailing. He sprung out of bed in his PJs and tripped down the hall.

"Dewey," he called out, horrified to see his brother collapsed on the ground, sobbing and shaking.

He wrapped his arms around Dewey, lending every ounce of strength he had left all the while not being able to cope with the sight of someone so strong being so broken now. It was hard when you were the youngest and the one who cried the most, to see someone older and better than you now openly weeping.

"Dewey, what happened, what's wrong? I've got you, it's okay." Louie couldn't promise that part but he tried to convince both of them that it was true, squeezing every ounce of persuasion into that line to make it convincing.

"I s-saw Uncle Donald," Dewey hiccuped, clinging to Louie.

Louie began running his fingers through Dewey's hair since he couldn't reach Dewey's back through the life jacket and extra layers.

"No, no, that's not real," Louie was quick to reassure Dewey. As much as the rocking of the ship sent them reeling, as much as they missed their uncle, the reality was that Uncle Donald was gone.

"He recognized me, Louie. He was looking for us, trying to get back to us. He reached out for me." Dewey shuddered and sobbed, pulling away from Louie, eyes wild, "It was real."

Louie felt gutted. Dewey clearly felt worse, but Louie felt sick to his stomach as well, "Then where is he, Dewey?"

"He disappeared. Like he was pulled away before he could reach me. Like he was drowning… Again."

Louie stood up abruptly when Dewey said the word again.

"Dewey, I'm sorry that that happened to you, but it couldn't have been real. It was a trick of your mind."

"Huey and Webby said there was a ghost. It could be him. He clearly has unfinished business, he's trying to get back to us."

A hundred thoughts went through Louie's head, mainly denial. This couldn't be real, it couldn't be Uncle Donald because that would mean he was really dead. And there couldn't be unfinished business that needed to be finished because when it was finished it would be over.

"Dewey, you should lie down," Louie suggested tentatively.

"I'm going to throw up," Dewey mumbled.

"Don't throw up on my hoodie," Louie's eyes widened and he hoisted his brother up, helping him to the bathroom where Dewey did indeed lose his oatmeal. It didn't look any better coming back up.

"Louie? Dewey? Are you okay?" Huey's voice broke through the tension as he and Webby searched for their brothers. Dewey looked wretched and Louie was still wearing pajamas and neither of them really felt okay. Dewey wiped at his mouth and they stepped back out into the hallway.

"We're fine," Louie said, trying to sound chill. He was not chill.

"Feeling great," Dewey mumbled, hugging himself.

"Mom sent us down to find you…" Huey said, sounding a little reluctant to dive any deeper than that. Webby nudged him. "But also, I wanted to talk… About everything."

"About what? We're fine." Louie felt very fidgety.

"Dewey said you had nightmares last night. It seems like we all did. You want to talk about that?" Huey offered, putting a hand on Louie's shoulder.

Louie pulled away and stepped towards Dewey, whose eyes were squeezed shut as if it was painful to be awake.

"Actually, Dewey wasn't feeling well, so we were going to go get him some water."

"Thank you," Dewey croaked.

Huey's eyes widened in concern, "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Oatmeal. Didn't sit right." Dewey mumbled, "And the moving of the ship… Bleh."

Huey nodded, dropping the topic of nightmares and taking Dewey's arm, "Let's get you some water, and tell mom and Uncle Scrooge you're not feeling so good."

Webby hung back with Louie, "Are you okay, Louie?" She put her hand on his arm, and he pulled away just as fast. He didn't want to be touched, he didn't want to be comforted, he didn't want to acknowledge the ghosts.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Do you want to go change? I'll wait for you."

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks." Louie disappeared and got dressed, following Webby and the others upstairs afterward.

Dewey was explaining how he was feeling to Della when Louie caught up, and Scrooge instantly tried to attack Louie with a life jacket and a bowl of oatmeal.

"I'm not hungry," Louie mumbled, too disturbed by Dewey's delusions.

"Are you not feeling well either?" Scrooge asked with a frown, and Louie nodded.

"Just a little seasick, I think."

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well," Scrooge said sympathetically, "You and Dewey should probably stay in the cabin today. You might feel better tomorrow. We'll handle the mysteries today."

"Thanks, Uncle Scrooge." Louie usually was excited about opportunities to stay in and lie around but today it didn't put his mind at ease.

"I'll bring you both some soup later," Della said, kissing Dewey and Louie's heads in turn.

"Do you want some company?" Huey asked, trailing behind his brothers.

"No, we're okay," Louie said, and Dewey didn't disagree, "You guys focus on finding that ghost."

Dewey's head lifted as if he was about to blurt out what he'd seen, and then he lowered it again, feeling Louie's eyes on him.

When they got back to the room, they both collapsed on Louie's bunk. Dewey's breathing was pained when he passed the wheelhouse and it hadn't settled yet. Louie was worried for him.

"Whatever you saw, it can't hurt you," Louie promised, though Dewey knew that whatever he'd seen hurt like hell.

"We need to tell the others, I won't keep secrets about family anymore," Dewey replied, shedding the life jacket and holding his side and his head, eyes squeezed shut.

"We'd need more proof," Louie said, needing this to be a delusion.

"What more do you want?" Dewey asked, "That weird singing last night, our nightmares, I know you dreamed of him too, and now I've seen him with my own eyes! Why don't you believe me?"

"Dewey you're clearly not feeling well, this could be a symptom of that, a delusion, just because there are ghosts on the ship and we don't know what happened to Uncle Donald doesn't mean that the ghost is Uncle Donald."

"We know what happened to him, Louie," Dewey snapped, "He died. He probably drowned. I bet you saw it in your dreams just like I did. He's gone."

Louie flinched, eyes filling with angry tears, "Stop it, Dewey."

"Stop what? I'm not the delusional one, Louie, you are."

"I'm not the one seeing ghosts!"

"This is a ghost hunt! You're supposed to be seeing ghosts! But you can't because you won't face the truth."

"Why does that have to be the truth?" Louie broke down now, hugging himself as silent tears streamed down his face.

Dewey dropped his anger, "Louie? Can I hug you?"

Louie sighed and nodded and Dewey sat up, wrapping his arms around Louie and smoothing his hair, reciprocating Louie's comfort from earlier.

"Uncle Donald loved us. He did everything he could to be there for us. Right now, the best thing we can do for him is to hold onto his memory and accept the fact that he's gone." Now it was Louie's turn to sob into Dewey's chest. Why was this so hard? Why was everything so hard?

"I want to get off this ship," Louie said, shuddering as he cried.

"I know, Louie, I know," Dewey said comfortingly, continuing to run his fingers through Louie's hair.

"I have to get off this ship!" Louie cried, voice louder than he meant it to be, and as he spoke, the ship slammed to a stop, sending Louie and Dewey hurtling off of the bed and straight into a pitch-black otherworld.