It only took one pack of fizzy candy flying out the window for Dewey to stop his bellyaching and Huey to get back onboard the Isabella Finch train.
Louie needed them both in his court in case any part of his plan went up in flames in the next 24 hours. If that meant suffering through the junior woodchuck museum by convincing Dewey to enjoy it and pushing Huey to stay on track, so be it. His brothers were going to enjoy every inch of that museum they could in one hour, Louie was going to make sure of it.
"Ugh, there's junior woodchucks everywhere. It's like the attack of the little Hueys." Dewey stepped around a crowd of touring junior woodchucks and tripped into the steps.
Louie gripped him by the shoulders and guided him into the building. "I hear the sword of Swanstantine is here."
"Big deal. We found all the pieces to it ourselves and wielded it against F.O.W.L." Dewey crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, barely looking around the extravagant museum.
Louie stared up at the glass ceiling and marble pillars as he showed the woman at the counter their tickets on his phone. Uncle Scrooge didn't spare a penny (for once) in building the museum as a monument to Isabella Finch and her legacy. Man, I wish he felt that way towards his own heirs.
"How long is this tour going to take? I've got a bucket of cotton candy in the car that's calling my name."
Louie punched his brother in the arm.
"Ow! Watch it."
They both looked over at Huey who was still taking in the entrance to the museum. With hands shoved deep in his pockets, he meandered through the alcove and towards the exhibits like the two of them weren't even there.
Louie grabbed his middle brother by the arm and pulled him along. "Come on, we're supposed to be the ones leaving him in the dust. Not the other way around."
"UGHHHHH, whose idea was this anyway? I thought Huey gave up all the nerdy woodchuck stuff."
"He grew up, sure, but that doesn't mean he's not still a junior woodchuck at heart. That's not going to change. This is what made Huey… well, Huey. Just let him have this." Louie stopped in his tracks, when he spotted The Stone of What Was, an ancient blue stone and artifact written about in Isabella Finch's Missing Mysteries.
"Ohhh Deeeewford!" He pulled Dewey in by the collar and pointed at the stone.
"Yeah, that's the stone Mom and I found on that mission with Kit Cloudkicker. So what? Uncle Scrooge stuck it in here to collect dust with all the other relics," he grunted.
"You're right. It's a real shame that all of these magical artifacts are in here and not being used to go on more adventures. I mean, look!" He gestured to the huddle of little junior woodchucks around the relic, reading a plaque aloud. "These poor little knowledge seekers don't even get to hear the real story of how it was recovered. How lame is that?"
Dewey's eyes grew rounder than saucers. His jaw dropped. "I'm sure that plaque can't convey the thrill of adventure the real story has."
Louie clasped his hands together. "It's almost like they're robbing them of knowing the true meaning of adventure by stamping some simple explanation on a piece of metal. It's a travesty, really."
Dewey rolled up his sleeves. "Those little nerds deserve to know what really happened. The adventure to find that stone was what really cemented my love of flying."
"In a way… one could say that the adventure to get that stone was what made Dewey Duck into the famed adventurer he is today." With an arm around his shoulder, Louie walked him over to the stone. "Yeah no, that plaque is a slap in the face, if you ask me."
Dewey shoved his hand off and climbed up onto the metal plaque in front of the curious eyes below. "Do you kids want to know what really happened around The Stone of What Was? From the duck who retrieved it himself?" He sat down on the plaque as the little woodchucks gathered around him. "Get your pens out, kids. You're gonna need 'em."
As his brother went into his epic retelling of his adventure with Mom and Kit, Louie stepped away. That was easier than I expected. He glanced at the time on his watch. That story should last him until we need to leave. He scanned the exhibition room. Now… where is the other one?
Huey read every skimmed over every plaque he came to. What was the point in reading them when he pretty much wrote or revised every entry that Uncle Scrooge used to make the plaques.
He stopped in at the very back of the exhibit where the full journal of Isabella Finch sat, encased in bulletproof, temperature regulating glass.
He rested his hand on the glass, reading an entry about the Lost Harp of Mervana that he had read over a million times as a child. I've held those pages in my hands. I did all the research, studied the paper, chemically tested the ink…. He smirked. Uncle Scrooge has a point. I would've made a fantastic archeologist. I was practically his lead investigator on all our adventures when I was only what?-10?-12?
Huey stuffed his hands back in his pockets. It would've been nice. Doing all this again… finding answers that scientists and researchers around the world still haven't found. He lifted his head, looking around the exhibit until his eyes landed on Louie.
His little brother was, of course, walking around the display case containing the gold lamp of Gene, the Genie… now free of the Gene part. Huey heaved a sigh. He can't stop. It's like anxiety… it just spirals and spirals until… until he can't stop. Until he gets himself into trouble he can't talk his way out of. Like prison.
Ugh, Huey remembered that year like no other. Every moment Louie was behind bars felt like he was trapped in some kind prison himself. Seeing his little brother in an orange jumpsuit every week was torture. The dark, sleepless look on his face whenever he and Dewey sat across from him made Huey always feel sick to his stomach later.
He rarely slept and had trouble eating for the first few months Louie was in the slammer.
They all hoped the time spent there would break him of his reckless behavior but it only seemed to make him bottle his thoughts and find ways to mask his cons.
He hasn't really stopped. And I'm the only one who notices. Mom refused to believe that he hasn't changed and Uncle D just thinks that he's growing out of it.
Huey could tell just by the way Louie looked at the golden lamp… he was still the same old, self-destructive Louie. He's practically drooling at the sight of it. The way Louie circled the case and examined the glass made him start to get uneasy. Barriers were becoming thin with Louie. Huey could tell by how easily he took Uncle D's stuff and justified his every questionable decision to their mom.
Huey reluctantly left the journal behind, without trying the new robotic page-turner to examine the other pages, and sauntered over to his brother. "Enjoying the exhibits, Lou Lou?"
Louie slid his hands into his hoodie. "I mean, I can always appreciate a little gold."
He rolled his eyes and then spotted Dewey behind him. Their brother in blue was jumping around The Stone of What Was, performing like it was a stage and immersing children in his dialogue. "I see Dewey found some value in the museum."
Louie glanced back and shrugged. "Any excuse to get all the attention."
"I'm just glad he's enjoying himself." Huey smiled, feeling a tinge of warmth in his chest. His brothers were both enjoying themselves. Even if one was just feeding his love for gold and the other his love of attention. They were still fully engaged in a place he never thought they'd join him.
"Thank you," he put his arm around Louie.
His little brother shrugged and snickered. "Hey, none of that now." He wiggled out. "I tried to go back on my word and that wasn't fair to you. This place is a nice blast from the past and I'm sorry I tried to… put Dad over it."
Huey's heart sank just a little when Louie slunk back. He dropped his hands to his sides. "Thank you for thinking of coming here in the first place. I miss things like this." He gestured to all of the banners, exhibits, plaques, and junior woodchucks. "And if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be here."
Louie looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. "Heh. Yeah. What are brothers for, right?"