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Webby and Lena don’t talk until three full days after the FOWL raid.
Oh, they talk, all right. Dewey never misses an opportunity to drag the kids together and gush about the adventure. While they had floated and filtered throughout the family on the long ride home, the ten kids had made an unspoken home base in the bottom corner of the plane, near the emergency hatch that Launchpad had accidentally opened. They chatted brightly, sharing jokes and trading jabs, high on the adrenaline of a long day and a treacherous fight won. But Webby and Lena never interacted directly in their conversations beyond pleasantries.
They didn’t talk in the way that mattered.
After the comfortingly familiar sight of Duckburg had crested over the horizon and the plane had landed, Webby and Lena left each other without so much as a goodbye. Ty and Indy were hovering impatiently at the Sunchaser’s doors, flooding inside as soon as they possibly could and scooping Violet and Lena in their arms. Webby stood off to the side, her grandmother’s steady hands on her shoulders. She watches two doting fathers hold their daughters close and thinks about family. She thinks about her Granny, and Huey, Dewey, and Louie, and Uncle Scrooge-Dad, and Uncle Donald and Aunt Della. She thinks about May and June, safe and happy with Uncle Donald and Aunt Daisy.
She thinks about June in her room and a flippantly cut string and Lena’s wrath. June watches Lena too, with Aunt Daisy’s hand on her head, and guilt flashes in her naive eyes.
It’s almost the push she needs. Energy floods Webby’s tired body, and she tenses to surge forward and crash at Lena’s feet, blubbering with apologies and tears.
Granny’s hand tightens on her shoulder, a silent warning.
Webby glances up. Granny’s eyes meet hers, as wise and clever as ever. She shakes her head, a tiny signal. As always, Granny can read Webby perfectly. Webby may not be able to read Granny so accurately, but this time the message is clear. Now is not the time.
Webby understands. With her family’s help, she’s getting better at social cues. This is the Sabrewing family’s moment, not hers.
Webby looks away.
Webby looks away, and promises to claim her moment soon.
--
After that, the next few days are both a flurry of activity and uncharacteristically empty for an adventuring family such as the McDucks. As per usual after an adventure, they trudge into the mansion, adrenaline sludging off in droves, and crash in bed for the next twelve hours. Webby wakes to the smell of blueberry pancakes, her favorite in childhood, and stumbles downstairs to where Granny is occupying the empty kitchen, a small, knowing smile on her face. She eats, watches the unfortunately missed Ottoman Empire series finale with her brothers ( “I can’t believe we missed the series finale !” “We had to go rescue Webby and Huey, Louie.” “Yeah, but it’s the series finale ! Now the show is over and there’ll be no more Ottoman Empire, ever!” “Eh, I’m sure they’ll reboot it in another thirty years.” “Yeah, but I’ll be old by then!” ), eats less-than-healthy food that the adults let slide, and sleeps again.
On the second day, Webby and her brothers set up a room for May and June at the mansion while Aunt Della, Uncle Donald, and Aunt Daisy make last-minute arrangements to bring two extra kids on their vacation. May and June apologize, awkwardly and haltingly, at every possible occasion, and it’s all Webby and her brothers can do to lessen their guilt. But there’s one apology that sticks with Webby more than the rest.
June pulls her aside late into the afternoon, while Huey is teaching May the Junior Woodchuck certified method for hanging up curtains.
“I’m sorry for cutting your string,” June says, nervously playing with her pigtails. “I know it’s really important to you.”
“It’s fine!” Webby’s voice is much brighter than she feels. The memory leaves an acidic sensation in her stomach and a bad taste in her mouth. Tears prick at her eyes at the secondhand sensation of Lena’s destructive fury and June’s panicked cries. But most of all, the helplessness and unsureness Webby felt in the moment. She had to watch her best friend tear into her adopted sister without a second thought, and part of it was justified but not all, and she didn’t know what to do. Her undying loyalty was shot in the face of uncertainty of who to pledge it to.
June frowns at her. She may be a FOWL clone, a test tube baby, barely a few months old, but she’s sharper than she looks. Louie’s lessons must be paying off. “It- it doesn’t have to be. I know I messed up. I messed up a lot .”
“You didn’t know what you were doing,” Webby says. The lie is heavy on her tongue, even if she means well.
June can’t meet her gaze. “Please, Apri- Webby .” Her sister’s head snaps up, her gaze shining and uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t make allowances. I want to earn your forgiveness.”
Webby blinks, stunned speechless, for a few moments. When she finds her voice, she clears her throat hesitantly. “Thanks. I… I appreciate that.”
June licks her lips nervously and nods her head, slow and careful. “Thank you for listening to me. It’s… new to me.”
Webby smiles awkwardly. “Of course, sis.”
As she had intended, June’s eyes light up at the term, and her vivacious smile is back in full smile. She squeals and squeezes Webby in a quick hug before returning to Dewey and Louie, the former who is trying to get the latter to do his laundry. Webby smiles fondly.
Webby knows most siblings don’t really call each other “bro” and “sis”. It’s a fixture of the media. Dewey explained it to her a week after Huey, Dewey, and Louie sat her down and told her in no uncertain terms they wanted her to be their sister. (She cried.) But with May and June, it feels right . They may not be normal siblings by both the media’s and society’s standards, but they’re sisters all the same.
The smile slips off Webby’s face as her thoughts spiral. June was right. The string issue is still bothering her, and she needs to address it.
Lena and Violet haven’t stopped by the mansion since the original failed FOWL raid. It’s not unusual for them to stop by later after an adventure, but usually they stay for the night after the trip.
They didn’t this time. Ty and Indy swept them away.
In bed, on the night of the second day, Webby lies awake long after lights-out. She stares at the ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stars she and Lena stuck up there two years ago, back when Lena was stuck as Magica’s lackey. The fear in her gut curdles into steady determination, and Webby Vanderquack makes a decision.
She picks up her phone, charging next to her, and texts Violet. Can I come over tomorrow?
Despite the late hour, Violet replies immediately. That would be agreeable.
No text bubble pops up to indicate Violet wants to say more, so Webby likes her message and sets her phone on the nightstand next to her. She lies her hands crossed on her belly and breathes deeply, wide awake. But a few minutes later, her phone buzzes again.
Is this purely a social call, or do you wish to speak to Lena?
Webby stares at the screen for a couple minutes, biting her lip. She knows Violet’s seen her read receipt, and usually that would spur Webby into action, but she can’t spew nonsensical responses right now.
Finally, she settles on a simple Yes .
Violet’s reply is swift. Good.
This time, her typing bubble pops up almost immediately. Lena has been much more reticent since we departed Alexandria. My research has shown me that communication is the most effective path to healthy relationships.
Webby’s beak quirks up in a small, fond smile. Yeah. Me too.
I do not doubt that the pair of you will heal each other. Violet responds. Good night, Webbigail.
Gnight, Vi.
--
At precisely one-thirteen PM on the third day, Webby stands on the doorstep of the Sabrewing household, clutching a small purse and a bag of candy.
She rings the doorbell, and Ty greets her at the door. His face splits into a warm, fond smile at the sight of her, and it warms Webby’s heart. Ty and Indy are by no means the adults she’s closest to in her family, but from the moment Webby met them, they’ve never failed to make her feel welcome and safe and loved.
“Come in, come in!” Ty gushes, guiding her into their familiar foyer, where Violet is peacefully reading a book. “Lena’s upstairs.”
“I’ll show her, father. Thank you.” Violet rises from her armchair, placing a bookmark in her book and carefully setting it down on the coffee table. She gracefully crosses the room and latches onto Webby’s arm.
“Okay. Have fun, you guys! I’ll make some snacks.” Ty gives Webby a quick hug and kisses Violet on the head, and then waves them away. Violet tugs Webby up the stairs and up to Lena and Violet’s shared room.
They pause outside the shut door. One of the Featherweights’ old albums floats through the walls.
“This is where I leave you,” Violet intones. “Call me when you are finished.”
Webby smiles. “Thanks, Vi.”
Violet starts to step away, but pauses. “Webbigail?”
“Yes?”
Violet turns to fully face Webby, her expression deathly serious. “You are my best friend. But if you ever hurt Lena, I will hurt you. Tread carefully.”
Webby grins. “Thanks, Vi. Don’t worry.”
Violet sniffs, offended at the mere accusation. “I will not.”
She leaves, and Webby turns to face the door. She spends a moment visually exploring every nook and cranny of the soft oak, and then takes a deep breath and knocks.
Lena opens the door, hair disheveled. “Dad, I don’t want chocola- Oh. Pink.”
Webby rocks nervously back and forth on her feet. “Hey, Lena.”
Lena blinks at her, her expression unreadable, before stepping aside and gesturing to the inside of the room. “Well, I guess you’d better come in.”
Webby smiles nervously and steps inside.
Lena and Violet’s room is messy and cluttered in a way nothing in the mansion is, because for all the Duck family’s characteristic untidiness, the mansion is simply too big and Granny is too competent of a housekeeper to let any clutter stay. Like Uncle Donald’s houseboat, Lena and Violet’s room, and the entire Sabrewing house, is cluttered because it’s lived in. It feels homey. It feels like family.
The room is filled to the brim with Violet’s various books - both hobbyist and scholarly, and Lena’s hair dye and vinyl albums. In the corner, Lena’s pet raven watches Webby carefully from its cage. They’re all in agreement that he’s not a normal raven, but his latent abnormalcy has yet to show itself.
“So.” Lena crosses the room to stand by her bed and her raven’s cage, shoving her hands deep in her pockets and rocking back on her heels. She won’t meet Webby’s eyes. “What’s up?”
Webby fidgets with the friendship bracelet on her wrist. The strings are frayed and soft from three years of constant wear and similar stimming. “I… I came to apologize.”
Lena’s hand strays to her bracelet as well. “Me too, Pink.”
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you for blowing up at June,” Webby says. “You told me not to forget you and, in your perspective, I basically did.”
“No, it’s my fault,” Lena sighs. “I let my temper get the better of me. I knew June was basically a little kid, and I still blew up at her. It was because of me that she got the opportunity to run off and steal the Sword of Swanstantine.”
Lena tugs at the hem of her sweater, scowling darkly. “I guess I just almost killed my family. Again . It’s fine; I’m used to it.”
The words are barely out of her mouth before Webby launches herself at Lena, barely able to contain herself. She wraps her arms around Lena and buries her head in the soft, worn cloth of Lena’s sweater. “You shouldn’t be! It wasn’t your fault before and it’s even less of your fault now. You’re part of this family.”
Lena’s arms rest lightly around Webby’s shoulders, and her chin touches the top of Webby’s head. “Yeah, I know that by now, Pink. I’ve come a long way, huh? But that doesn’t erase the fact that I messed up.”
“Well, so did I.” Webby replies stubbornly.
Abruptly, Lena pulls apart, her hands set steadily on Webby’s shoulders. She stares straight into Webby’s eyes. “Webby, I know the boys are your brothers, but for the first time in your life, you had a link to your biological family,” Lena states. “I don’t blame you for defending them, and you shouldn’t either!” For the first time, Lena drops her gaze, her beak curling in frustration. “I overreacted. Plain and simple.”
“But it came from a place of love,” Webby insists, her lower beak wobbling. “I- It means so much to me that our relationship means so much to you that June cutting our string set you off like that! Really!”
Lena smirks. “That’s sweet, Pink. It’s true. But I still shouldn’t have used my magic.”
“Maybe it was a little much,” Webby finally admits. Lena scoffs at that, but otherwise stays quiet. “But please don’t blame yourself. Bradford and Black Heron set May and June up to steal me and the Missing Mysteries. They would’ve found a way to cause an issue with or without you.”
Lena squeezes her shoulder. “There, you see? It’s Bradford and Black Heron’s fault, not yours.”
“But they were after me ,” Webby insists. “And- and maybe if I’d been a little more forceful with Granny, maybe she would’ve told me about my real heritage.”
Lena snorts. “Please, Pink, Tea Time wasn’t the best spy in the biz for nothing. She didn’t spill her secrets until all other hope was lost and her literal worst nightmare had come true before her eyes.” Webby flinches at that, and Lena’s tone and grip softens. “Point being, it’s not your fault.”
“Well, it’s not yours either,” Webby insists.
“Maybe not,” Lena admits at last. “But I’m still going to apologize to June. Maybe I didn’t cause the Annual Duck-McDuck Family Crisis, but I still hurt June. That wasn’t okay.”
Webby smiles. “Thanks, Lena. I’m so happy you guys are trying to get along.”
Lena grins back. “Eh, we’ve got a lot in common. I’ll bring her and May over to my weekly ‘So your childhood guardian was a villain who used you to try and kill your new family’ hangouts I have with Boyd and they’ll be sold. Hopefully.”
The mental image of Lena, Boyd, May, and June hanging out at one of Lena’s favorite dives and discussing the perils of their childhoods over greasy burgers brings a smile to Webby’s face. “I’m sure they’ll love that. Eventually.”
“They’ll come around,” Lena says, but she doesn’t sound entirely sure.
“They will,” Webby affirms. “They’re… it’s not easy to adjust. Their entire lives were upended. But they’re trying.”
Lena smiles. “That’s all I ask for,” she says simply. “As long as I can help.”
“You will,” Webby promises. “Now, do you agree that you weren’t responsible for the incident?”
“Yeah,” Lena smiles wryly. “But neither were you.”
Webby clutches her elbow. “I still messed up, though. I could’ve handled it better. And I still hurt you .”
Now it’s Lena’s turn to rush forward and squeeze her in a hug. “Well, I guess we both did,” she murmurs, a little too flippantly. “Good thing we both came to apologize, yeah?”
“Mhm.” Webby nods into Lena’s chest. She’s so soft and warm and stable. “So, are we good?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Lena replies. “I need to apologize to June.”
They sit on Lena’s bed, and Webby leans into Lena’s side, toying with her friendship. “I missed you,” she murmurs, avoiding Lena’s eyes.
Lena chuckles, and while it’s in good faith, there’s not much amusement behind it. She ruffles Webby’s hair lightly. “I was only gone for a couple days, Pink.”
“Three,” Webby corrects absentmindedly. “This is the third day.”
Lena grins. “So you kept count, eh?”
“Of course,” Webby responds matter-of-factly. “It was all I could think about.” She readjusts herself so she’s leaning against Lena more, and tilts her head back to see Lena’s face.
Lena is blinking, baffled, before her beak curves into a small, fond smile. “Huh. Me too.”
Webby’s smile grows and grows. Lena’s come a long, long way since Webby followed that fateful message in a bottle. She’s been much more comfortable with open affection for a long time now, but it still makes Webby’s heart sing.
“We should do something,” Lena hums. “Hang out, with no adventure or magical villain threatening our lives. We haven’t done that in a while.”
Webby laughs softly. “Yeah, it has been a while, hasn’t it? But you should know by now. There are no normal hangouts in this family.”
Lena chuckles, soft and fond. “Yeah, well. I’ll take whatever I can get as long as I can hang out with you.” She wraps her arm tighter around Webby, and snuggles closer. “I know what I signed up for when I joined this family.”
They sit together on Lena’s bed, facing away from each other, in the comfortable silence.
“You know,” Webby breaks it after a few minutes. Her nervous fidgeting has returned. “You know, sometimes I wish it didn’t happen like this.”
Lena blinks. “Hm?”
“I-” Webby gestures animatedly, frustrated, days and months and years of pent-up emotion spilling out all at once. “I wish I didn’t have to find out about my family this way. I wish Granny could’ve just told me, without the FOWL capture and fights to the death and kidnapping all of our friends. I’m okay now, but… but it was really scary,” she finishes in a small voice, burying her head in her hands. “I didn’t know what was going to happen. I didn’t know if my family would be okay.”
“Oh, Pink.” Lena gathers Webby into her arms and pulls her onto her lap. “I know how you feel. It must’ve been really scary.”
“It was,” Webby murmurs. “It really was. But I love adventuring, and I already know what would happen if we stopped - heck, Uncle Donald already made that wish! And it didn’t turn out well! I shouldn’t feel this way, and I hate it.”
“You know, those two feelings aren’t mutually exclusive,” Lena says, raising her eyebrows.
Webby twists in her embrace to meet her gaze. “Huh?”
Lena shrugs. “There isn’t much to it, honestly. Your daily, run-of-the-mill adventures aren’t the same as this scheme Bradford’s been cookin’ up for decades. They don’t usually involve life-changing revelations.”
“Yeah, but…” Webby sags in her embrace. “It’s still an adventure.”
“Honestly, it’s not healthy for you guys to keep having all your major events in life-or-death situations,” Lena snorts wryly. “But I guess that’s our family for you. Doesn’t mean it should stay that way, though.”
“Sometimes it’s out of our control,” Webby murmurs, a half-hearted protest for a battle she already knows she’s lost and didn’t even want to win in the first place. “Like when Lunaris chased Aunt Della down to Earth. She thought he was a friend. Or… or when Magica attacked us.”
“Yeah,” Lena mutters. “But your grandma still shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“She said she won’t anymore,” Webby says.
“And that’s great .” Lena squeezes her tighter. “That means it probably won’t happen again. The past is in the past, Pink. You can’t change it. Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of troubles with that fact.”
“You can’t control what other people do,” Lena continues. “Like with Lunaris and… and Magica. All you can control is yourself.”
“I’ll do my best to spill all my secrets before one of Dad’s mortal enemies has to threaten my life for it,” Webby snorts, half-sardonic and half-lighthearted.
Lena punches her gently. “I don’t think you’ll ever have a problem with that, Pink. You’re a pretty open book.”
Webby bites her lip. “That’s not a bad thing, is it? Bradford and my sisters were able to manipulate me pretty easily.”
Lena scoffs. “Yeah, and it ended so well for Bradford, didn’t it?” Webby keeps her gaze away from Lena’s face, and instead watches Lena’s hands clench and unclench into fists.
Lena sighs, taking a deep breath to reorient herself. “What I mean, Pink, is that it’s not a bad thing. Honestly, it’s one of your best qualities. I know I wouldn’t be here today if you weren’t so trusting and earnest.”
Webby smiles, but it’s forced. Evidently, she hasn’t picked up enough of Louie’s tricks yet, because Lena’s unwavering, deepening frown tells Webby she can see right through her.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t train,” Lena offers. “I don’t think you should become more distrusting and cynical, but maybe you can work to recognize when others are trying to manipulate you.”
Lena glances down at her hands, spinning a stray pencil (where did she get that?) around her fingers. “I could help you, if you’d like.”
Webby grins up at her, teary and emotional. “I’d like that.”
Lena drops the pencil and wraps her arms around Webby again. For the millionth time that day, Webby buries her head in the comforting familiarity of Lena’s soft sweater.
“I missed you,” Lena murmurs.
“Me too,” Webby replies. “So much.”
“So very much,” Lena echoes, and tugs Webby closer.
For the first time in three days, the tension dragging Webby down loosens, and she is free. She is home.