This would not do.

They couldn't give up now.

Not when Lucas had the dime.

Not when Lucas was Prince Louie.

Back in their box, Gladstone sat forward in his chair, balling his gloves in his hands, coiled as tightly as a horse waiting at a stating gate. "We need a plan," he said.

"I have an idea," Lena said.

"My luck had to have allowed this to happen for a reason…" he said.

"I have an idea," Lena repeated.

The lights dimmed and the curtain rose.

"There's gotta be something…" Gladstone said.

Lena huffed a sigh. She liked Gladstone, she really did, but sometimes…sometimes he treated her a little too much like a kid.

She quietly slipped out the back of the box and exited the theater. She found a spot against one of the stone columns in front and settled in to wait.

People slowly began to trickle out of the theater. People who wanted to beat the crowds and the traffic, people who didn't care enough to stick around for the applause. Lena scanned the crowd. It didn't take long for her to spot King Scrooge, head held high, walking straight towards one of the limos standing in the street out front.

Lena rushed over to that limo, beating the King to it, and opened the driver's door.

"No time to explain," she said. "I need to borrow this car."

"I'm waiting for Mr. McD," said the chauffeur. "I've gotta drive him back to the Money Bin. Hey, wait." He looked Lena over. "I know you! You used to work at the Money Bin! Uh…Lena, right?"

Lena forced a smile. "That's me."

"I'm glad you made it out of Scotland."

"Yeah, me, too," Lena said. "Now, can I please borrow the car?" King Scrooge was getting closer. "I'll make sure he gets home."

"Hmm." The chauffeur rubbed his chin. "Technically, I'm not supposed to…"

"Thanks, Launchpad!" Lena said, pulling him out of the car just as the King reached it. Launchpad went around to the other side to hold the door open for him. Once the King was settled in and Launchpad had closed the door, Lena pulled away from the curb, and off they went, speeding down the streets of Duckburg.

"Launchpad! Slow down!" King Scrooge said from the back seat. Then he took a closer look at his driver. "You're not Launchpad!"

"No, I'm not Launchpad," Lena said. "And I will not slow down."

"I demand you stop this car!" King Scrooge said.

"No," Lena said.

"What is this, some kind of kidnapping? What on earth could Magica possibly want with me now?"

"I'm not working for Magica," Lena said.

"Likely story," the King scoffed. "You aren't even old enough to drive!"

"I am in Edinburgh."

"How did you get hold of a car in Edinburgh?"

"Long story," Lena said. She pressed her foot to the gas pedal to make the next light.

"Where are you taking me?"

"The hotel. Where Louie is."

"Hmph."

"Mr. McDuck, you have to talk to him!"

"I will do no such thing!" King Scrooge said.

Lena's grip tightened around the wheel. "I don't think you're going to have a choice." The tires squealed as she rounded a corner.

With the way Lena was driving, it did not take them long to reach the hotel. She parked the car against the curb and got out so she could hold open the door for the King.

"Please?" she asked him.

King Scrooge was sitting straight as a board, holding firmly to his cane, head held high. "Absolutely not."

"I knew him, too," Lena said gently. "And I know that boy is him."

"Don't start with me, lass. You weren't a friend to him. You might as well have been the one to kill him."

Lena's eyes stung. "I didn't kill anybody!" she snapped. "I did all I could. I was a child. If you couldn't stop her, what makes you think I could?"

Fire briefly flashed in the king's eyes before he deflated. "You may have a point," King Scrooge conceded. He was quiet for a moment. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No," Lena said. "I'm not."

King Scrooge nodded slowly. "All right," he said.

She stepped aside. King Scrooge exited the car and walked toward the hotel.

Lucas was packing his meager possessions back into his suitcase. His ratty old jacket, his toothbrush, his dwindling stash of money, his forged papers. He threw in the bar of soap that had come with the room—there was no telling when he would get another. He glanced around for anything he may have missed.

There was a knock at the door.

"Go away, Gladstone," Lucas said. He snapped his suitcase shut.

Behind him, the door opened anyway. Lucas turned around, ready to tell him off again, but it wasn't Gladstone at the door.

It was King Scrooge.

"Oh." Lucas took a step back. He wasn't sure if he should bow or…or…

"Let's get this over with," the King said. "What makes you think that you are my nephew?"

"Well, I—uh—I—" Lucas stammered. Then he took a deep breath and squared himself. No more games, no more fibbing. "I don't know," he said. "I don't remember a single thing before the Revolution. I've been scraping by, on my own, ever since, and Gladstone…I don't know. Gladstone thought I looked like the prince, I guess, and he said his luck would have led him to the right kid. But you were right," Lucas continued bitterly. "He's probably just found the guy he's most likely to fool you with."

King Scrooge nodded. His face was stern, inscrutable. "You do bear a passing resemblance," he admitted. "But you'll have to do better than that to convince me that you're him."

Lucas shrugged. "How am I supposed to do that?" he asked. "I came here to find out if I have a family. If—if you're my family." Lucas slipped his hand in his pocket out of habit. "I was hoping you could give me that answer."

"And the reward money doesn't mean anything to you?"

"Of course it means something to me," Lucas said. "I've had nothing for the last six years, maybe longer. I'm not exactly in a position to say no to money." Lucas grew quiet. "I'd rather have a family, though."

"I must say, you're good at this 'poor, lonely orphan' act," King Scrooge said.

"I don't want to trick you. I never wanted to trick you. Gladstone made me learn all this stuff about your family, but I never wanted—I was going to tell you about that. That I studied." Lucas reached into his pocket again.

The corner of King Scrooge's beak quirked up. "You're not exactly helping your case, lad. Louie never was one for studying." He walked towards the window. "That was Huey."

"Oh, don't get me wrong; I hated every minute of it," Lucas said, then immediately blushed.

Scrooge sighed. "None of you ever consider that the real Prince Louie hardly knew anything of the family history."

"He didn't?" Lucas said, startled.

"Nope," Scrooge said. "He started getting interested at the very end, there, inasmuch as he could assign value to the heirlooms and doo-dads we had all over the Bin. Maybe get some ideas about making his own fortune." Scrooge smiled fondly. "He was always cooking up another scheme, that one."

"I'm going to kill Gladstone," Lucas muttered.

"What was that, lad?"

"Nothing," Lucas said innocently. Then he caught a whiff of something…familiar. "New tea bag?" the words tumbled out.

"Pardon?"

"It smells like nutmeg," Lucas said. "And if I can smell, that means you finally got a fresh bag." He fingered the coin in his pocket. "Huey and Dewey and I used to make bets on how long it would take for you to use a new one. And…you…weren't supposed to know about that," Louie trailed off. The king did not approve of gambling.

King Scrooge peered at Lucas, almost as if looking at him in a new light. Then his gaze shifted. "What's in your pocket?"

Lucas was startled. "Nothing."

"Then why do you keep putting your hand in it?"

Lucas stuck his hand back in his pocket. He grabbed the coin inside and held it as tightly as he could. He took a deep breath and pulled it out. He slowly flipped over his hand and opened his fist, revealing a thin, shining dime, crudely but securely attached to a tarnished watch chain.

"Bless me bagpipes," Scrooge said in awe. "It's not—it can't be!"

Tears sprang to Lucas' eyes. He suddenly remembered the dust, the explosions, his own small hand held securely in someone's bigger one.

"Where did you find it?" the King asked, his voice shaking. "Have you had it all this time?"

"I guarded it well, just like you said," Lucas said, quiet and small.

King Scrooge looked from the dime to Lucas, his face now changed. Anger and weary bitterness had been replaced by hope and love. His eyes filled with tears.

"Louie?" he said, voice cracking.

And that was it. The dam holding back all of Lucas' memories broke, and those memories came flooding back.

Louie looked up at the King. "Uncle Scrooge?"

"Oh, lad, I thought I'd never see you again!" The King burst into tears and pulled Louie into a hug. Louie didn't think that he'd ever been held so tight.

They stayed that way for a long time, as if to make up for all of the hugs they hadn't been able to give one another over the last six years. Louie found that he was crying, and crying hard—huge, ugly sobs tearing from his throat, and big, wet tears soaking his face. He had a family. For the first time in six long years, he had a family. He knew who he was. He had a name, a past, an identity…he had love. It felt like a dream. Louie was afraid that, at any moment, he would wake up, and these memories would recede back into the depths of his mind, but the arms squeezing him so hard that he couldn't breathe were as real as anything.

"There you are!"

Lena turned around to find Gladstone walking towards her, his figure illuminated by the street lamps. She could just about make out the sour look on his face.

"What are you standing out here for? It's raining," he said, as if it weren't obvious.

Lena nodded towards the window to their hotel room. "I figured Lucas could use some privacy."

"Who's car is…" Gladstone trailed off as his eyes widened in realization. "This isn't—Lena, you—tell me you didn't hijack Uncle Scrooge's car."

"Ok. I didn't hijack Uncle Scrooge's car."

"You did though, didn't you?"

"Uh-huh."

Gladstone eyed the car. "How did he take it?"

"He was mostly surprised that I could drive."

"I never did figure that one out."

"And also mad about the whole Louie-thing, but I got him to go inside, so how angry could he really be?"

"Uncle Scrooge? Furious." Gladstone paused. "What happened to—"

"Launchpad?" Lena supplied, waving off the question. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Wait, Launchpad's still his chauffeur? Huh. I would have thought old Uncle Moneybags have fired him by now."

"Launchpad? Never! He's family!"

"Yeah, but he costs an awful lot in vehicle damage."

"Family transcends money, even for King Scrooge."

Gladstone gave her a Look.

"Ok, maybe not," Lena amended. "Who knows? Maybe he's…softer now."

Gladstone scoffed. "He didn't seem very soft at the Money Bin."

"Then maybe Launchpad learned how to drive."

"Yeah, right."

The two of them looked up at the hotel window.

"Should we go in?" Gladstone asked.

"What? We can't! We have to give them time!" Lena said.

"How long has it been?"

"I don't know. Half an hour, forty-five minutes?"

"If Uncle Scrooge hasn't come storming out by now, they've both figured out we've got the right Louie," Gladstone said. "And I'm not standing out here in the rain all night."

Lena watched after him as he strode towards the hotel. Soon, she could see the shadows through the curtain, coming together and then pulling apart, a silhouetted hand gripping a shadowed shoulder, a hand ruffling the top of a silhouetted head. Lena smiled sadly, imagining the scene playing out. A family, once torn apart by violence, finally coming back together.

There was no place for Lena up there.

She turned and started making her way down the street, disappearing into the dark of the night.