Lately, I've been, I've been thinking
I want you to be happier, I want you to be happier
Webby watched the boys play and felt like she was standing outside of herself. Scrooge had insisted she had a therapist appointment tomorrow, so she guessed she did. In the past, she might've been open enough to tell the therapist everything, if only because she was so eager to share. And overshare. Right now, Webby could feel Lena beside her and still didn't want to speak.
"We could always blow this place," Lena suggested and then nudged her playfully. "Just not literally, okay?"
Her hands shook on the pinball machine. The flippers reminded her of knives, which reminded her of stabbing and guns. She stepped back, her head spinning. Blood, hot and thick, coated her and the metallic taste filled her beak. Gagging, she dashed past the boys and into the bathroom to vomit.
Lena rushed after her and held her hair back. Tears streaked Webby's cheeks and she collapsed onto her knees.
"I know the food sucks…" Lena teased and Webby shook her head.
"I can't do this anymore," she whispered. "I can't pretend to be a normal kid."
"You never were a normal kid," Lena said, but it was gentle, not an insult. She helped her to her feet and Webby clung to her. Lena rubbed her back and escorted her back toward the drinks. Louie, who'd been gaming the system again, glanced at the girls with concern. He finished his "water" and headed over to them.
"Webby?" he asked.
"I don't think 'fun is in the zone' for me," Webby said weakly. Lena took a napkin and cleaned up her face. She gestured for Louie to give Webby something to wash her mouth out. Of course, he left his drink alone, but he did bring back water for her to rinse out her mouth.
"What happened?" he demanded, looking at Lena as though she'd caused it. Lena rolled her eyes.
Webby shook her head. She didn't know how to answer. Her throat was tight and she lowered her gaze to the floor. Memories crowded in, feeling more real than her surroundings. She could barely feel Lena's arms about her or Louie taking her hand.
"The Bloodhound Gang is all locked up, right?" Webby asked, barely pushing the words out.
"They're all locked up, yeah," Louie asked, looking baffled. "Why?"
"I keep...feeling...the knife...and the guns on my temple…" Webby said and breathed shallowly. She could feel the telltale signs of hyperventilation starting; she'd done so when she'd murdered their leader. She was shaking, too, and Louie gave her a paper bag to breathe into. Lena stroked her hair and it seemed she was having a conversation with Louie, but Webby lost track of it.
And the hands inching up her skirt...Webby bit back a scream. This was the wrong place to have this happen. Why was it now? Why? She was safe. She was with the boys and Lena. Nothing was going to happen to her here. The worst thing that could happen would be if the Beagle Boys were stupid enough to enter again and she could handle them. Why was she freaking out over nothing?
Louie's grip on her hand was firm and she squeezed back. She felt the other two approach and Dewey took her other hand. Huey was talking about JWG instructions on how to deal with PTSD. In the back of her mind, she scoffed. That JWG couldn't possibly have everything. It hadn't had the Terra-firmians until he'd added them.
But their presence was soothing. Surrounded by her friends and family, the ball in her chest loosened slightly. They were grounding her.
"You're here, not there," Louie said. "Uncle Donald sometimes has flashbacks too."
Webby tasted tears and Lena wiped them away. Still shaking, she wished she had another hand to hold Huey's and Lena's hands. She interlaced her fingers with Dewey's and Louie's. Around her, she heard children laughing and screaming. She wished she could be like that again. Why couldn't she be? What was wrong with her?
Granny would know. Webby lowered her gaze.
"Wanna go to the bookstore?" Huey asked.
"Ugh...why…" Louie complained.
"I like books," Huey said. "They're like rules. They're comforting and they don't change."
Webby's breathing was coming easier and Louie took away the paper bag. She glanced up at Huey; the love pouring out of the four of them was enough to bowl her over. For so many years, she'd wanted a family. And she had one. And they cared about and loved her enough to stop whatever they'd been doing, whatever they'd been enjoying, to take care of her.
"I love you, all of you," she whispered.
"Are you feeling any better?" Huey asked.
Webby nodded. She felt weak like she'd been running one of her grandmother's obstacle courses for hours, but she was better. The tension left her body and she eased out of the chair. The manager was watching them, although she knew he wouldn't dare say anything to them. The place was just lucky Scrooge McDuck hadn't decided to sue them. Heh. Her heart pounded.
"I'm up for the bookstore," she decided. Louie groaned again and she squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
"I guess I can ruin my record," he said, making a big show of complaining, but he was watching her anyway. He smiled at her and she offered him a weak smile back.
"Books aren't going to attack you, you know," Huey huffed as they headed out. "You could learn a few things from them."
"Or I could get it for free off the internet," Louie said.
"You mean stealing them?" Huey asked, aghast.
"Hey, man, they're up there to be read," Louie said, shrugging, unperturbed by his casual law-breaking. "It's not my fault that they're on the grey side of the law."
"It's not grey! It's black and white! You're stealing!" Huey hissed.
"Stealing isn't a crime unless you get caught," Lena informed Huey and he spun around, shooting her a betrayed look. She smirked. Webby's smile broadened.
"See?" Louie said. "She agrees with me."
"Living like a criminal is…" Huey sputtered, too indignant to finish his sentence. Not to worry-Lena and Louie were all too happy to complete it.
"The only way to live when you have a magical shadow attached to you?" Lena suggested.
"Not that illegal if you know your way around the firewalls?" Louie suggested.
"I can't believe I'm related to you!" Huey huffed, but Webby knew he didn't mean it. Huey loved being a triplet and loved his brothers, no matter how exasperating they were proving to be. Louie had released Webby's hand, but Dewey was still holding her right hand. Dewey smiled weakly at her.
"Are you okay?" Dewey asked in an undertone.
"No, not really," she admitted. "I threw up what little I ate for breakfast."
"We should get more to eat, then," Louie declared, which Webby suspected was more of a way to stop his argument with Huey than because he was hungry. She shook her head.
"I'm not hungry," she said. For one thing, she knew she never wanted medium rare steak again or anything bloody. She shuddered and Lena grabbed her left hand. Her stomach clenched, possibly a delayed reaction to her throwing up.
"You're just trying to stay out of the bookstore," Huey argued.
"Are you accusing me of having an ulterior motive?" Louie retorted, feigning outrage. "You know I'm always looking out for everyone else. I'm never selfish!"
"Ha, right," Huey said.
Webby pulled her hand away from Dewey so she could touch the cell phone she'd taken from Uncle Scrooge. Running her fingers over the screen was therapeutic, like she could somehow touch her grandmother through the phone. Somewhere, in the past, her grandmother was holding the phone too. Webby's heart twisted and she wanted nothing more than to go home and sequester herself in her room. That was so wrong, antithetical to who she was, that she recognized it and it sent a chill through her. Since when did she shy away from adventure and leaving the mansion?
"Hey, pink," Lena said quietly. "You're spending too much time in your head again."
"What are you thinking about?" Dewey asked. His brothers had stopped arguing, though Huey had a smug air that told Webby he'd won. Louie was fiddling with his cell phone again and pretending he didn't care. Or maybe he really didn't.
"Huh? Oh," Webby said. "How come you guys didn't want to spend time with your mom?"
"If we spend any more time with her, we're gonna be imprinting on her," Louie muttered. There was something more and she was tempted to pry. Della Duck was a legend. Louie had told her that had turned him off in the past, but she'd thought he'd come around.
"What's really going on?" she asked.
"You can't change the subject like that," Huey protested.
"I don't really want to think about what's going on with me," she countered. "What's going on with your mom?"
As if on cue, her grandmother's phone vibrated and Webby took it out of her pocket. It was her mother again. A lump formed in her throat and she pushed her phone back into her pocket. She didn't want to deal with that on top of everything. She felt like she was being crushed beneath the weight of everything. (And why hadn't the boys needed therapy after seeing her kill someone? Or was it just because she'd been the one to stab him? The way she'd had to force the knife through the thick bone...the feel of it catching in his heart…)
"They said they wanted to talk about something," Dewey said, shrugging. "They told us to be back by four, though."
Webby nodded, knowing there was more to it, but they probably didn't know what. She stared at the phone again, which hadn't stopped vibrating. Her mother had left a voice message. Who did she think she was talking to? She knew Mrs. Beakley was gone. Perhaps she thought she was talking to Scrooge because she hadn't known Webby had stolen the phone back.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" Dewey asked.
Should she? She didn't know. She flipped open the phone and saw her mother's face, as well as her grandmother's wallpaper. It was Webby. Webby's heart wrenched and she shut the phone again. No, she couldn't deal with this right now.
"She can wait," Webby decided, her stomach in knots.
"Maybe we should've asked Launchpad to drive us around," Huey said, frowning. "I thought the bookstore was in that direction, but now I'm lost."
"See? I'm not the only one who gets lost," Louie said.
"Captain Lost, Captain Lost!" Dewey chanted and Louie glowered at him.
"It's a couple blocks down to the right," Lena said and they stared at her. "What? You have a lot of time to kill when you don't go to school and you're trying to hide from adults who'd call you truant."
"You sure you're going to be okay?" Dewey asked and Webby nodded. She wasn't, but she was sick of people asking about it. There didn't seem to be a point.
"Wonder what was so important the adults didn't care that we went out…" Huey mused.
The security system nearly hadn't let her through. For a few poisonous seconds, Scrooge contemplated not permitting her access, regardless. He didn't want her in the house. Seeing her reminded him of his failure, reminded him of how his pride had gotten Mrs. Beakley killed, and that had set into motion the whole chain of events that had affected poor Webbigail so. Della had been on the fence about allowing Wren in too, though her reasons weren't as personal as Scrooge's. The house felt too sacred and safe for strangers.
He would have handed off funeral arrangements to Mrs. Beakley...and now he had no one to ask. He couldn't ask Della-she'd only just returned from the moon. Donald didn't know his former housekeeper that well and it fell to Scrooge. He'd been about to start planning it or at least finding someone to plan it for him when the gate security went off.
It didn't help that the foyer and front entrance bore signs of a magical battle. With Wren there, the signs seemed painfully obvious, like they hadn't recovered from the attack. He added repairmen to the list of things he needed to get done.
Wren claimed she wanted to spend time with her daughter; he almost regretted letting the kids out of the mansion. Then again, after Magica's multiple attacks on the manor, it wasn't as safe as he could make it. That was next after Beakley's funeral arrangements. Like Webby, he found himself considering Wren a complication he didn't need.
All four adults were seated around the dining room table and he felt the kids' absence keenly. He wasn't normally overprotective-that had fallen to Mrs. Beakley. But he worried about them, especially considering Webby's unstable state. And how was he supposed tell her mother about that when she'd been absent for her entire life? What right did she have to Webby's problems?
The atmosphere was tense; to Della and Donald, Wren might as well have been a stranger. They hadn't been particularly close as children. To Scrooge, Wren was a stranger. She favored her father, whoever that had been, but Scrooge could see the resemblance Webby bore to her.
"The house feels different…" Wren commented, looking wrongfooted. She was sitting opposite the twins.
"Aye, we haven't repaired since Magica's attack," Scrooge admitted. He cast her a shrewd gaze. "The kids won't be back for a few hours."
"How is she?" Wren burst out, prompting Scrooge to raise his eyebrows. "Webby, I mean. Is she all right? How is she taking this? I shouldn't have left, I know. I should have stayed when she hatched...I thought my mother had everything under control. And then...and then this happened."
Scrooge was still watching her. He wasn't sure how much he believed her. He found her timing suspect. True, she'd mentioned that she'd only noticed because of Magica's attack, but...maybe he was being suspicious in general. Maybe he ought to give her the benefit of the doubt. However, he hadn't become a billionaire by giving people the benefit of the doubt in business.
Donald was also giving Wren a shrewd look. Scrooge wasn't sure he'd forgiven Della for abandoning the boys, even if she was trying to make up for it now. Forgiving Wren was out of the question. Somewhere along the line, Donald had begun to see Webby as an unofficial niece, the "fourth nephew". Scrooge thought Donald had a greater claim to her than Wren did at this point.
How much could they tell her? How much could she handle?
"Webbigail's lived a sheltered life inside of the mansion," Scrooge began, cautious. "It was only recently that she was permitted access to the outside world."
Wren stared. "She's been cooped up inside the mansion her whole life? That can't be healthy."
"Mrs. Beakley seemed to think it was safer for her to remain here," Scrooge said. He didn't share the reasons why. Wren ought to know why anyway. If she didn't, then she and Beakley had spoken less than he'd thought.
"Her grandmother's death must've come as quite a shock to her, then," Wren said. Donald was glowering at her, but he didn't speak. Presumably he didn't want to accuse her of being an absentee parent when Della qualified too. Della, however, was not one to miss cues. She frowned at her brother.
"Yes," Scrooge said. He didn't elaborate. Donald scowled, doubtlessly thinking of the chain of events that had transpired after Betina's death.
"What aren't you telling me?" Wren asked, studying each of them in turn. "You're holding something back. Should I ask Webbigail when she returns?"
Scrooge grimaced. "No. I don't think that's a good idea."
"Then what?" Wren demanded.
"Webby doesn't know how to navigate the streets by herself," Scrooge said, trying to figure out how to put this delicately. "She ran out one night and encountered a band of ruffians."
"She protected herself, didn't she?" Wren asked, frowning.
"They had guns on her," Scrooge replied. "They got away with it."
"With what?" she said. "What is so bad that...oh god. No. Not Webby, no."
"I'm afraid so. Magica engineered revenge against Webbigail for defeating her the last time, Webbigail, the boys, and her niece Lena. Webby killed their leader...and she's been...it's a lot for a child to handle."
Wren said absolutely still, hands clasped in front of her. She stared, aghast, at Scrooge.
"And you let her out of the mansion?" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "Where did they go? Why aren't you more concerned?"
"She ran out at night, for one thing," Scrooge said. "For another, she was alone. For a third thing, the Bloodhound Gang has been apprehended, as have many, many other criminals we found lurking in the process of clearing out Duckburg."
Wren collapsed back into her seat. Donald and Della were gawking at Scrooge; other than those he considered on a "need to know" basis, he hadn't filled them in on Webby's situation. Della looked uneasy and Donald upset, leaning towards angry. Not that he blamed him. Scrooge had residual rage from Webby's attack.
"Webby…" Wren breathed. "I should've been there...if I'd come right after I'd heard Magica attacked-"
"You're still a stranger to Webbigail," Scrooge pointed out, though not unkindly. "She wouldn't have confided in you. And this wasn't your fault. It was the damned Bloodhound Gang and Magica de Spell."
Wren gnawed her lower beak and stared at the table for a few seconds. "I want to be in my daughter's life from now on."
"That's a big commitment," Scrooge said. He almost added that "you weren't up for it earlier", but Webbigail needed a parental figure in her life.
"We'll see," he added and she frowned.
"I won't leave this time," Wren said. "I promise."
Della and Donald exchanged looks, likely thinking of her taking the Spear of Selene.
"We'll see," was all Scrooge said in response. He wasn't holding his breath.