Huey spent the weekend in his room. He'd never really done that, he'd always been working, or studying, or helping with his brothers. That had been his life for so long and it seemed for the first time in forever he had the space to breathe.

And he couldn't breathe. He spent the weekend in his room, on the top bunk, buried under the covers. He'd been breaking down, deteriorating, since he'd overheard what his uncle had said about going after Della- mom. It scared him so much, the thought of losing Uncle Donald too. He couldn't communicate his fears with his brothers and he definitely couldn't communicate his fears with Uncle Donald, so he stayed in his bunk, wrapped in a weighted blanket, trying his hardest to calm the fuck down.

"Huey?" Uncle Donald had let him get away with the rest of Friday, accepting that Huey might be exhausted from a hard day at school. But it was Saturday afternoon, a beautiful one at that. Dewey and Louie were outside, playing with their newfound tíos, but Huey continued to hide.

"I'm fine," Huey lied automatically. He'd said the same last night when Uncle Donald had come in to kiss them all goodnight and had found his teenager still wide awake and spiraling.

"I'd really like to talk about whatever's bothering you, Hue."

"No," Huey said automatically.

"Or you could tell me about your fight with your teacher yesterday," Donald suggested.

"It was nothing. I got mad because I thought I was going to get in trouble for not doing homework. I thought he was going to call you and it triggered a fight or flight response, I guess."

Donald nodded sympathetically, though Huey wasn't looking.

"I know you've been having a hard time in school, Hue. I never wanted that for you but I'm sorry for the ways I contributed to it."

"You didn't do anything," Huey said, still on autopilot, still staring at the wall. He was afraid to look at his uncle and burst into tears again.

"Exactly. I didn't do anything. I didn't see that you were drowning and I didn't reach out. I should have helped you a long time ago, Huey. And I'm so sorry that I didn't."

"It's fine!" Tears reached his voice now, and the jig was up. Uncle Donald climbed up to the top and hunched over to sit, resting a hand on Huey's back. Huey shuddered with sobs, unable to meet Uncle Donald's eyes even now.

"Huey, you can talk to me. Tell me what's wrong, tell me what I did wrong, tell me anything. I'm here, I'm listening."

"I don't want to talk!" Huey snapped, burying his head in his pillow.

Donald let out a sad sigh.

"I'm so sorry. I've pushed you too far. We don't have to talk, kiddo. But I brought you a sandwich. Could you eat something for me? I'm worried about you." Huey sat up a little and took the sandwich, eating carefully so he wouldn't get crumbs in his bed and attract bugs. Then he handed Uncle Donald the plate, a clear message, get out.

"It would mean a lot if you could come down for dinner, Hue. You haven't gotten a chance to meet Panchito or José yet. I think you'll really like them."

"Mmph," was all Huey said in reply.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, though. It's okay to need a break."

Huey didn't say anything else, and Uncle Donald left soon after.

"I don't know what's going on with him," Donald said in whispered tones to Panchito while José entertained the younger kids with a story about their old band days.

"He's growing up, there's always growing pains," Panchito attempted to comfort his old friend.

"Yes but this is… Bad, Panchito. Really bad. He's never been this distant before. I'm afraid something is really wrong that he's not telling me, and that he's trying to deal with it alone."

"It's hard to open up sometimes, Donald. Maybe he just needs someone new to talk to."

"Panchito-" Donald said, eyes widening as he realized what was going on, but Panchito had already waltzed away, ready to barge into his nephew's room and get inside his head.

"I said I didn't want to talk to you," Huey grumbled when he thought Uncle Donald had come back into the room.

"I'm not your uncle. Well, I am, if you want me to be, but- let me start over. I'm Panchito."

"Hi."

"I can tell you're not feeling especially talkative, but I'd love to get to know you. We don't have to talk about what's bothering you or any of that."

"Did Uncle Donald put you up to this?"

"Well, he asked us to come. But he didn't tell me to come in here right now if that's what you're asking. I know how awkward it can be, talking to your family about things that are bothering you. So we don't have to do that. I come as a friend and I want to talk about friend stuff."

"Yeah, okay, you can stay."

"So, Huey, what do you like to do fun?"

There was that question again, and this time, Huey couldn't stop himself from bursting into tears. Panchito was obviously alarmed, but he tried to play it cool.

"I can't do this anymore," Huey confessed, sitting up and burying his head in his knees.

Panchito nodded seriously, getting a good look at the broken teen for the first time and waiting for Huey to explain at his own pace.

"I don't want Uncle Donald to feel guilt but- oh my gods. I'm the oldest child. I don't have fun. I don't have time off, I don't have time to breathe. I'm always on, I'm always working and I can't keep up with it! I don't have time to do the things I used to do for fun."

"Well, if you had that time, what would you do?"

"I don't know. Read. Join the Junior Woodchuck Scouts again. Something like that."

"Well, we're here now. You're not alone and you're not responsible for everything anymore. If your Uncle Donald can pull this off, you won't have to be alone anymore ever again."

"Pull what off? Going after mom and getting himself killed? That'll help a lot," Huey spat, shaking with anger and pain.

Panchito's eyes widened and his mouth made a little o.

"That's not going to happen, Huey."

"Forget it. I'm never going to be truly free, I'm never going to get my break or my breathing room. There's always going to be something to do, someone's tail to save."

"I'll leave you be, Huey, let you get back to breathing, but just know that you're allowed to focus on yourself. You're allowed to save yourself."

"What if I'm too tired to do that, too?" Huey asked, sounding completely depleted.

"Then you ask for help. And you rest."

"Rest. Yeah. That would be good…"

Panchito turned the light off and left, taking a deep breath before he faced Donald.

"You were right, Don. It's bad. But not hopeless. I think maybe he does need some space for a little bit longer, but you need to talk to him. He feels like he's responsible for everything, for his brothers and for you. And I know you never intended that, Donald. But he has spent his entire life trying to make everything okay for everyone else, and this time he needs someone to tell him that everything is going to be okay. And he needs it to be true. He doesn't want to lose you, Don. He doesn't want what happened to Della to happen to you."

Panchito could see tears form in Donald's eyes. What he couldn't see was Louie, around the corner, listening and wondering what that last statement meant.