Disclaimer: I don't own Ducktales!

Title: Counting Cards

Summary: Goldie and Scrooge have known each other a long time now, and that's given them a special kind of closeness. Goldie can't say the same for the children he's dragging around with him now, but if she wants to continue the way they have she's going to have to learn. Too bad Goldie's never been good at being good.

...

"I blame you for this," Beakley said whilst pouring her a glass of milk.

Goldie rubbed at a baggy eyelid. It hadn't been worth trying to go to bed after three, so she'd stayed up. "You're gonna have to be a bit more specific."

"I don't mean anything in particular- just overall."

"Gotcha."

The housekeeper set the plate of pancakes down with the deepest scowl Goldie had ever seen, and Goldie knew firsthand how deep Bentina Beakley could scowl. "Mr. McDuck left me no instructions when he left. I fed you anyway."

"That was very kind of you, Beakley." Goldie surreptitiously poked and prodded her pancakes, searching for any fluffy holes where poison could be hiding. "You have terrible taste in hair dye, I must say."

"You have quite the effect on him. A bad one. I'd hoped this time might be different."

She set her beak on her hand, eyebrow crocked. "We've known each other for more years than either of us would like to count. Don't pull that 'act of kindness changes the bad guy' baloney on me now."

Beakley sighed and shook her head. "It has nothing to do with that, and everything to do with Scrooge. But I suppose it was too much to assume you would care about anyone but yourself."

Goldie shrugged, staring out at the empty breakfast table with a frown. "That sounds like a you problem to me."

She scoffed and walked away, leaving the room with her head high. Goldie wondered if she felt she'd delivered some great punchline. But the thing is, at the end of the day, she's lived long enough to hear it all over and over again. It's too late for that now.

The pancakes are cold by the time she remembers they're there to eat. The mansion is as quiet as a graveyard despite it being noon. She's fairly certain Scrooge is sulking, and the boys... well, what does she know of children? Maybe they're sulking, maybe they're sleeping. Lena had left early on through a front window, stating with some irritation that the front door was bugged against magic. What did a shadow do during the daylight hours? You'd think they'd be nocturnal.

"Hey."

Goldie doesn't startle, but her fork makes one of those little screechy noises on the plate as Webby crawls onto a chair next to her. Beakley carts in some pancakes far quicker than she did for her, then vanishes all over again. Probably hovering outside the door, waiting for any sounds of struggle or argument. "Hey."

Webby looks at her brunch, then gently pushes the plate away. "What happened last night? I went to bed and now Uncle Scrooge is back and the boys are mad at him."

A wry smile flashes across her beak as she takes a sip of milk. "Your guess is as good as mine. We were about to share a pot of tea when the red one came downstairs and yelled at him. Haven't seen either since."

"Huey," Webby told her. Goldie doesn't want to admit she'd known that. "Yeah, we've all got our tempers, I guess. They'll work it out." She shrugged it off, looking more than a little uncertain about that. "I... never thanked you for covering for me, Ms. O'Gilt. With- with Lena."

"Don't call me miss. Make me feel old."

She cocked her head to the side. "But... you are old."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I want everyone else to know that. They might start offering me the better seats on the bus." Goldie gives her elbow a nudge, but Webby just looks confused. "My comedy is wasted here. Just call me Goldie, okay? And don't thank me for basic respect. I'm a criminal, sure, but I still have dignity."

"Okay," Webby said. Goldie watched out of the corner of her eye as she gulped down half her glass of orange juice in one go. "Have you ever liked girls before?"

"More than my fair share." She waved it off dismissively. "Shouldn't you be having this talk with Beakley?"

Webby's smile faded. She wiggled her feet. "Probably. It's just... Granny worries about me. So much. I know she stays up at night when I go adventuring. She listens to the news while she works. I want to keep that worry to a minimum. If I can spare her a little of that, even if it's for stuff like this... I mean, it's only fair, isn't it?"

Goldie didn't respond.

"And she's always been a bit wary of Lena," Webby added. "She doesn't listen to rules or adults or safety. She's cool like that. Granny loves us both, and I don't want to drive a wedge there. I don't want them to be mean to each other again." She finally looked up from the tablecloth. "Is that selfish?"

"My concept of selfish is a bit askew," answered Goldie honestly. "Is family stuff always this complicated?"

"Our family is."

"It's yours. Not mine."

Webby shook her head. "You've got a chair at the table. Granny makes you dinner. You sit and eat and watch movies with us. I know it's temporary, but so is a lot of things around here." She watched intently as Goldie collected the glass of milk to avoid meeting her eye. "The only one here who doesn't want you to be part of this family is, well, you."

She thought back to Huey's words, and doubted it. "I'm a bit of a walking disaster," Goldie said. "It's always tended to drive most people away."

"Have you met any of us? We're all disasters. That's what makes it so fun."

It's not the first time she's heard that, but it's the first time in a long time. Goldie eats her breakfast in silence.

Author's Note: Poor Webby came downstairs to Family Drama.

-Mandaree1