I do not own DuckTales.

Apologies

Illuminated by the pale orange glow of the sunrise, the group of ducks trekked towards the entrance of McDuck Manor. The Golden Cricket's lackluster song, which was more soothing than ethereal, added to the fatigue weighing in their bones. Scrooge and Webby were the most awake out of all of them, Scrooge having endured many a sleepless night in his time and Webby harbouring a severe sugar rush from drinking directly out of the buffet's chocolate fountain.

Dewey stumbled on the stairs, hitting the front of his webbed foot on the edge of the step. He was saved from a humiliating face-plant by Donald, who snagged him by the collar of his blue shirt with practiced ease.

He turned to thank his uncle, but the words paused on his tongue. The activities of the day had visibly worn Donald down, from the bags under his eyes to his unfocussed glaze. Concern bubbled within Dewey it chased away his exhaustion.

The front doors parted to reveal Beakley, who regarded them with a bemused expression. "I would have thought the Golden Cricket's song would have enlightened you rather than exhausted you."

"The Golden Cricket's song is naethin' more than a lullaby," grumbled Scrooge.

"Ah. I am sorry to hear that. I was hoping you would be able to impart wisdom the Golden Cricket shared on life's great mysteries." Beakley quelled a smirk when Scrooge shot her a withering glower. "Should I ask how you managed with Gladstone Gander?"

"Definitely nae nao," muttered Scrooge. "Ah've got tae wash the casino grime from me feathers and then Ah'm goin' tae bed, where I just might sleep for fifty years."

"How can you sleep when there's so much to do I'm not gonna sleep for a hundred years!"

Webby sprinted past Beakley, a blur of white and pink, shrieking gleefully at the top of her lungs. Beakley gazed after her and then turned to Scrooge with narrowed eyes. "How much sugar did you let her have?"

Scrooge shifted his gaze. "The lass may have been overeager at a chocolate fountain. But tae be fair, Ah did nae realize exactly how much she had."

"She was fine until we were halfway home," added Huey. "I guess it took a while for all that chocolate to kick into her system. Do you know how many cartwheels she can do in a row?"

"I can imagine," said Beakley dryly.

She went to attend to her granddaughter and Scrooge made a straight path for his bedroom. Donald shuffled towards the stairs, the dazed expression only leaving his face when Dewey called out to him. "What is it?" he asked, one wing holding the banister as he paused on the third step.

"Um…I just wanted to say that when I said you were the worst, I didn't mean you were the worst. I meant your luck was the worst. But I shouldn't have said that at all. I'm really sorry."

"Me too," said Huey, shame-faced. "Just because you have bad luck doesn't mean you're a jinx. Uncle Gladstone is naturally lucky and look where that got him. He would have been a prisoner forever if it weren't for you."

His beak lifted upwards in a smile and Donald opened up his wings. Dewey and Huey immediately hurried into his embrace. "Thanks, boys. I love you."

"We love you too," they said in unison.

After holding them for a moment, Donald let go. "It's way past your bedtime and you need a recommended eight hours of sleep."

"Don't have to tell me twice," said Dewey with a yawn. "Louie, you coming?"

Louie stayed in the middle of the foyer, wings dug into the pocket of his hoodie and eyes downcast. Sensing his brother wanted to talk to Donald alone, Huey tugged on Dewey's arm. "He'll be up in a bit. C'mon."

They disappeared up to the second landing and Donald stayed in place, watching Louie intently. "Are you okay?"

The simple concern injected into the words caused his guilt to intensify, to crawl into his throat and tighten around his vocal cords. He had treated his uncle with such disrespect, after everything Donald had done for him and his brothers. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay—"

"No it's not. I was really rude and you didn't deserve any of it. I don't care that you're unlucky. I shouldn't have made fun of you for it."

"I probably shouldn't have taken it so seriously," returned Donald, slightly sheepish. "It's always annoyed me how Gladstone always gets what he wants without doing anything. I hate admitting it, but that does sort of make him cool."

"It doesn't." When Donald regarded him with surprise, Louie nodded. "Yeah, he gets a bunch of stuff for free. I used to think that was cool, how life came so easily to him, but I realized something. You're cooler. I mean, bad stuff always happens to you and you just keep going and somehow you always make it through, just like today. Heck, Uncle Gladstone got trapped because of his luck and he couldn't save himself. He needed your help."

Having not quite thought about today's events in such a manner, Donald could not help but grin. "He did, didn't he?"

"He totally did."

"Thanks, Louie. It's not always easy being so unlucky, but I have three reasons that help get me through."

Louie blinked. "What are they?" Donald sent him a pointed look and realization dawned. "Ooh, gotcha."

"Get over here."

Louie ran into Donald's wings, which tightened around him. He rested his forehead against Donald's chest, gripping the front of his shirt. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The lingering shreds of shock from the events of the day disappeared and all Donald felt was a warm fuzziness in the pit of his stomach. He had spent so much time feeling jealous of Gladstone's easy luck that he had forgotten he had something much better. He had Huey, Dewey and Louie, his boys, and they were all he would ever need.

"All right, now it's time for bed. You get cranky when you don't get enough sleep."

Louie pouted. "I do not." He let out a laugh and dodged the mock-swat Donald aimed at him. He wiggled his way past his uncle and hurried up the stairs. "Goodnight Uncle Donald!"

"Goodnight, Louie."

His steps much lighter now that he had properly apologized, Louie headed down the carpeted corridor towards his bedroom. As he passed by the hall that led to his great-uncle's quarters he slowed his movements, glancing over his shoulder. After a moment of thought he turned on his heel and approached Scrooge's room, knocking on the door.

"What is it nao?" asked Scrooge as he opened the door, his burgundy bathrobe tied tightly around his waist. "Oh, Louie. What is it, lad?"

"I wanted to apologize."

Scrooge furrowed his brow. "What did ye break?"

"Uh…nothing," said Louie, slightly confused.

"Then what are ye apologizing for?"

"Oh—for accusing you of leaving Uncle Donald behind." Louie self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck and said, "We still don't really know each other all that well, but I should have known you wouldn't do that."

"Ye do nae have tae apologize," said Scrooge, slightly bewildered. "It was a fast-paced situation an' Ah do nae think anyone had time tae process it properly. Ye had a right tae be mad."

"Maybe. But I should have trusted you. You wouldn't leave any of us behind. It's like Uncle Donald always says. Family helps family."

"Aye." Regarding Louie, Scrooge hesitated before continuing, "I suppose Ah should have been more considerate of your feelings. Donald means a lot to ye. Of course ye would be upset."

"It's okay." Glancing over Scrooge's shoulder, Louie could see water pouring over the edge of the marble tub and onto the smooth floor of the bathroom. "Your bathroom is flooding."

"Curse me kilts, me bath!"

Laughing, Louie backed away from the door. Before it could shut in his face he said, "You mean a lot to me too, Uncle Scrooge. Goodnight!"

Scrooge watched the boy disappear down the hall, eyes wide with surprise. The continuous trickling of water on his expensive flooring urged him to move, his webbed feet splashing in the small puddle of water as he hastily reached over to turn off the tap. Pushing his sleeve up his arm, he reached into the bath to remove the drain, allowing the water level to diminish.

He watched the swirling water, Louie's final words echoing in his mind. After a moment of pondering he left his quarters and went down the corridor. He planned to go to Donald's houseboat, but when he passed by the guest bathroom he distinctly heard the sound of more running water.

Donald answered his knock, towel wrapped around his waist, steam already fogging the room behind him. "Can I help you?"

"When me hot water bill comes in ye can pay it," said Scrooge in disapproval. "What are ye tryin' tae do, create a sauna?"

"It's been a long day and for once I'd like to relax."

"Aye…I suppose ye deserve it."

"…did you interrupt me just to complain about the excessive water usage or did you need something?"

"I joost wanted tae say…well, Ah had no intention of leaving ye behind," muttered Scrooge, giving an awkward cough. "An' Ah'm sorry if ye felt that way."

Surprised at this, for his uncle rarely apologized for anything, it took a moment for Donald to regain his words. "Wow. Where did this come from?"

"Nowhere," said Scrooge gruffly. "Joost somethin' Ah thought Ah'd say. Ah'll leave ye to your shower."

"Wait," spoke Donald as Scrooge started to turn around. "Thank you, for saying that. I guess I didn't really expect you to leave me behind. It was just…an unexpected plan. But if you hadn't convinced Toad Whoever-He-Was to keep me, then Gladstone would still be his prisoner." Donald paused and then joked feebly, "Which might not have been all that bad."

Scrooge snorted. "For all places for Gladstone to encounter poor luck, it's ironic he found it in a casino. I doubt this experience will change him. Ah never knew why ye were always so envious of him."

Donald raised his brow. "What do you mean by that?"

"Gladstone is a freeloader who lets his luck take care of him. He's family, but he's arrogant an' selfish. He knows nae the value of earnin' what ye get. His life is shallow an' one day it'll all catch up tae him. Ye, on the other hand, know what it means tae work hard. Ye've provided nae only for yourself but for the lads. Ye made a lot of sacrifices—"

Scrooge froze at his use of vocabulary. Swallowing thickly, he looked away and said softly, "Ah did nae mean…"

"I know," said Donald, taking a breath to combat the tightness in his chest. "I know. I get what you mean. I appreciate it…Uncle Scrooge."

Nodding, Scrooge took a step back. "Ah'll leave before ye use up all me water. Ye could leave the water off when you're not usin' the shower, ye know."

"Goodnight Uncle Scrooge," sang Donald, closing the door.

Rolling his eyes, Scrooge started back for his quarters. He encountered Mrs. Beakley on the way, where she carried a clearly ill Webby in her wings. "There's a reason I tell you not to let her consume excess amounts of sugar," said Beakley in ire.

"Sticking your head in a chocolate fountain is super awesome but also kind of a bad idea," said Webby groggily. "Um…I also threw up on your Persian rug. I'm sorry."

Lifting his eyes heavenward, Scrooge sighed. "So much for me bath." Glancing at Beakley, he said, "Ah am the one who let her eat so much candy. Ah can—"

"Wonderful," interrupted Mrs. Beakley, setting her granddaughter down beside her boss. "You can clean her up and put her to bed while I make her some soup. If you want to save your rug I'd suggest hiring a professional cleaner. For now, I'll put it outside."

Scrooge grimaced at the thought of his rare and expensive hand-made rug sprawled carelessly over damp grass, but did not protest. "Come along then," he said and Webby hurried after him, a little bit more cheer to her features. "Tae think Ah used to be able to have nice possessions around here," he said with a touch of fondness.

At the other end of the second floor, Louie was just collapsing into bed. His blankets were pulled over his head and he was just drifting off to sleep when his phone started buzzing on his nightstand table, startling him.

"Wha? Ah, man." He picked it up, his scowl disappearing and replaced with surprise and bewilderment upon seeing Gladstone's number flash across his screen. After a moment of hesitation, he answered. "Uncle Gladstone?"

"Hey, Green Bean! You won't believe what happened. I just got a yacht for twenty dollars! You and the fam will have to visit sometime. It'll be a constant par-tay!"

"I think I've had enough of your luck for a while, thanks," said Louie flatly.

"Oh…I guess I get it. It can be overwhelming."

Sitting up, his covers falling into his lap, Louie demanded, "Are you seriously calling to brag after everything we've been through the past few hours? Because if you are I really don't want to hear it. Goodnight."

"Wait!"

"What?"

There was a beat of silence on the other hand before Gladstone sighed. "Look, I wouldn't have called you to help me out if I thought you all would end up trapped there with me. I thought Donald's bad luck would be enough to sabotage Toad Creep-Face. It didn't work out exactly as I expected, but I knew one way or another we would get out of there."

"You know, it would have helped if you had told us immediately instead of at like, the very last possible minute."

"He had eyes everywhere."

"It was too risky for you and you thought your luck would be enough to work it all out," summarized Louie.

"Something like that, yeah," admitted Gladstone. "…I wasn't really going to leave Don there."

This Louie believed, because for all the gusto that was his uncle, he cared about Donald, even if he didn't always show it in the right ways. "I know."

"And…uh, I turned into non-cool uncle for a minute, and I just wanted to say that I didn't mean it."

"When was that?" asked Louie, feigning cluelessness. "When you let us think you were going to let Uncle Donald take your place as Toad Liu Hai's prisoner?"

"No…"

"How about when you convinced Uncle Donald to play all those games knowing he was probably just going to humiliate himself?"

"Also no."

"Are you talking about when you didn't try to help out Uncle Donald at all during the—?"

"No," snapped Gladstone. "I'm talking about when I said I didn't need you!" There was a beat of silence and he added grudgingly, "Way to make me say it, Lou."

"You did a lot of jerky things so I just wanted to be clear," said Louie smugly.

"I didn't mean it, all right?" said Gladstone in slight exasperation. "Next time we get together I'll show you kids a good time without the threat of a spirt trying to keep us prisoner for all eternity."

"That would be nice," said Louie sincerely. "Hey, does your yacht have a waterslide?"

"Heck yeah! It's massive. I'll take a picture and send it to you."

"Cool. So did you really call to tell me about your boat or was that your way of starting a conversation that would lead to you apologizing without really apologizing?"

"Welp it's late and I've got stuff to do that you're too young to know about!"

Shaking his head, Louie said in amusement, "Whatever you say Uncle Gladstone. Don't forget to call Uncle Donald, who by the way is obviously the cool uncle."

"Wait a second—"

"See you later bye!" Louie hung up with a snicker and collapsed against his sheets, a smile on his beak.

As his nephews were falling asleep Donald stepped out of the shower and into the steamy room. He had just wrapped his towel around his body when his cell phone started to ring. Donald grabbed from where it rested on top of the hamper and his state of contentment quickly disappeared when he realized who was calling him.

"I am not rescuing you from anymore demons or spirits!" he snapped.

"Geez, hello to you too and I'm glad you're safe," returned Gladstone.

"What do you want?"

"You seemed pretty down today and I just wanted to say that you shouldn't be ashamed of your bad luck. It really helped us out today."

"You mean it helped you out. We wouldn't have been trapped in the first place if it weren't for you."

"Thanks, cuz. Nice to know I was just supposed to rot there."

Donald realized how he sounded and let out a heavy sigh. "I didn't mean it like that. If you had just told us directly, we would have figured out how to help you without getting blindsided."

"All right, maybe I didn't handle the situation the best way. But it all worked out."

"Barely," groused Donald.

"I wouldn't have left you there."

Surprised by this sudden admission, Donald said, "I know."

It was an automatic response and Donald realized he believed it. Gladstone got on his nerves and was beyond selfish, but no, he would not have let him take his place as prisoner. Gladstone honestly believed that if he had won the game, he would be able to use his luck to get Donald out, or banked on the combination of Scrooge's wits and brains and his luck would generate a successful rescue. However wrongly Gladstone treated this situation and how he used Donald, he would not have left his cousin or any member of his family behind.

"Good," said Gladstone in satisfaction. "Hey, I got this new yacht for twenty bucks and you should bring the fam to check it out."

Donald rolled his eyes heavenward. "You are the worst at apologizing."

"It has a golf course," persuaded Gladstone. "It'd be great if I could beat my personal best, especially if I do it while up against you."

"And I'd be more than happy to cause unintentional destruction to your yacht while we play," returned Donald.

"Eh, I'm sure there's fantastic insurance that'll cover everything. That's usually always the case."

"Goodnight, Gladstone."

"Hold up, D-Squared. Were you serious when you said you wouldn't rescue me from any more spirits?"

Donald smirked. "Are you scared your luck will get you in trouble again?"

"No! Weird things happen and it could happen again, not that I'm concerned. But if it does, and I happen to need some bad luck—"

"We'll see how I feel," said Donald casually. As Gladstone started to protest he hung up and let out a laugh. "Guess you're not quite as lucky after all, cuz."