I had actually written this some time ago and posted it on Ao3 and totally forgot to cross-post it on here. So if it sounds familiar, that's likely the reason why.
My bad memory aside, I found nothing special about this one-shot after having completed writing it. In all honesty, it's a concept that's been done several times before. Perhaps I just wanted to write my own rendition of it, or perhaps I simply like duck fluff. Probably the latter.
Regardless, I hope at least one of you comes to enjoy this.
There's always been a certain force of nature that the McDuck-Duck trio associated themselves with individually.
Just by looking at them, it was fairly clear to see which one was which.
For Scrooge, it's always been the land. The satisfaction of coming home from a hard day's work of toil. Knowing that no matter what happened, you were rock solid, and nothing could waver you. Through storms and blizzards, earthquakes and wildfires, you only came out stronger.
For Della, it was the vastness of the sky. The hunger for the beyond. The appreciation of life's thrills so much that you just craved for more of it, in every inescapable way. To chart the unknown and write your name across the very stars themselves for all to see.
For Donald, his home has been the sea. Untamed and unconquered, yet housing thousands of feelings and thoughts, that when underestimated, would rage out for all to see. The acceptance and understanding of change; that it was necessary and inevitable. Moving with the tides.
Together, the three completed each other. They were unstoppable, invincible. The harmony of three undefeated forces working together to shape new legends and tales. There stood nothing across the universe that could part them, nothing could shake them.
Except for themselves.
The land and the sea warred and raged without the mediator, the sky, to calm them. Though try as she might, the sky cried out to the two far below, but neither could hear over the thundering of their own quarrels. The land was left broken and the sea was left restless.
Donald had mourned in the midst of his duties, but Scrooge had mourned in solitude. Donald had the knowledge that he was needed, had a responsibility to keep. He had three boys. But Scrooge had no one. No one but his thoughts. And Donald knew how destructive that could be.
These musings were what led to Donald lying awake at night, not unlike several others.
He looked at his wall clock. 2:24 AM.
If he stopped thinking about it, maybe he would drift off.
Oh, how he dearly missed the swaying of the sea that rocked him to sleep in his hammock. Of course, he had the pool, and he was grateful for that fact. But it was no ocean.
He tossed and turned, kicking the blanket from underneath him. Eventually, he just threw the whole blanket off from him altogether.
Then, a thought occurred to him; Perhaps it was that Donald refused to accept that Scrooge was experiencing the same type of anger that he was. Someone to pin the blame on, someone to tear into. But it wasn't directed at anyone else. It was at himself. The guilt-ridden anger that had likely plagued the old man for a decade, and he allowed it all to weigh on his shoulders alone. Scrooge, in spite of everything, had risked his entire fortune. Lifetimes of memories made and placed into that bin, and he risked it all, just to rectify his one mistake.
And Donald... Donald hadn't even said sorry.
He pinched his eyes closed and rubbed at his temples. The clock ticked louder and louder. He spared it a glimpse. 2:56 AM.
Yeesh, can ya be any more obnoxious?
He sighed and resigned himself to the fact that his demons intended to pull an all-nighter.
He looked outside the porthole. There were a few strands of water flowing over the glass and he could see a light rain just beginning to start outside. With a contented smile, he buttoned his nightshirt up one more and slowly swung himself over the hammock's side.
Flicking on the porch-light and opening the door, he was met with the welcome fragrance of rain when he stepped onto the deck. The first specks of droplets that hit him chilled his spine. He didn't mind.
Resting himself over the railing, he closed his eyes and silently took in the sound of his surroundings. The rhythmic pattern of droplets hitting the boat's roof. The gentle breeze pulling at his feathers. The footsteps of someone slowly approaching from several feet behind.
He opened his eyes and turned his head around to see.
Speak of the devil.
It was Scrooge, dressed in his night-robe and cane in-hand. Perhaps it was the weather that called to him, too.
"Havin' nightmares again, are we?" Scrooge asked.
A half-chuckle, half-sigh escaped Donald as he shook his head. "You don't know the half of it."
Scrooge didn't respond. Instead, he walked closer and settled himself beside the younger duck, shifting his weight onto his cane.
For a blank moment, Scrooge was simply staring at the dark sky.
Donald tilted his head. "Whatta 'bout you? Don't tell me you came out here just for small talk."
Scrooge laughed, "Me? Small talk? Ach, nephew. You should know me better. Of course I'd know when one of my own kin was having trouble sleepin'."
"Don't fool me, old man." Donald playfully narrowed an eye. "With bags like that under your eyes, we both know I'm not the only one here who had'a hard time getting a few winks in."
Scrooge harrumphed as his eyes darted around the scenery. Donald could tell he was looking for some kind of excuse to derail the conversation.
"How about... we take a stroll through the gardens?"
"In the rain?" Donald asked bluntly.
"It doesn't seem 'ta be botherin' y' right now."
"Point taken."
Scrooge was the first to step off of the deck and onto the concrete surrounding the pool. They both shook the excess rain from off their feathers and slowly started their way toward the gardens.
The gardens seemed drearier than any other part of the manor at the moment. The hedges had already browned due to the shifting of seasons, and any flowers Donald might've remembered being there before had long wilted before now.
If he was being honest, he would've preferred to just stay at the houseboat.
He wiped some rain from off his bill. "Ya ask me, you could really use a gardener."
Scrooge laughed and patted Donald's shoulder "Now, why should I need 'ta spend money hiring one when I've got a perfectly good, hard-working duck right here?"
"Only if ya pay me." Donald said with a grin, and Scrooge muttered under his breath.
They halted their stroll at the small pond that was at the center of the garden. If Donald thought long and hard enough, he might've recalled goldfish circling in the water, back when he was a duckling and still living in the manor.
Sitting down on the concrete surrounding the pond, Donald took off his nightcap to lay on top of his lap.
"Alright," He sighed. "No more beating around the bush, Scrooge. What's eatin' ya?"
Scrooge seemed to refuse eye contact, instead prompting for some other distraction, like drumming his fingers on the side of his cane.
"The stars are looking... lovely, tonight." Scrooge coughed.
Donald looked up. "It's raining."
"Ach!" The elderly duck looked offended. "So I can't have a walk with my nephew without havin' some kind of mental breakdown, is that it? What's wrong with wanting to spend some quality time with y'?"
"Uncle Scrooge..." Donald frowned. Maybe he should have just waited for Scrooge himself to talk.
Scrooge shook his head. "Forgive me, lad. I forget y' know me too well, sometimes."
Forgive me.
Donald looked down. The dozens of thoughts he was experiencing earlier seemed to flood back to him.
Scrooge continued, "This isn't the time nor place fer a chat. And look at you," He pointed his cane at Donald's nightshirt. "Ye're utterly drenched, what have you." Scrooge ignored that his robe was practically the same. "We both should be gettin' 'ta sleep before Beakley gives us an earful about stayin' up late, eh lad?"
Donald looked up at Scrooge, and resigned to himself the same thought as he absently nodded his head in agreement.
"I'll just be lettin' y' off now." Scrooge turned away from him and began walking back toward the manor. "Goodnight, nephew."
He watched as Scrooge sauntered away. And in the back of his mind, he knew that if he let Scrooge leave, he might not get another chance like this for a long, long time.
It had already been ten years. It was time to put the dead to rest.
He stood up, holding his nightcap and balling it in his hands as he looked over at Scrooge's form that was becoming more distant.
"I'm sorry."
Scrooge paused his step.
"I'm sorry," Donald continued, allowing the words to catch in his throat, to give himself some time to think. To search for the right words. "I'm sorry... that for ten years - I let my anger keep us apart."
Scrooge barely shifted from his spot. His foot didn't move an inch. He focused squarely on the path before him.
In spite of that fact, Donald knew the old man's heart was racing. His was too.
"Nay, y' were right all along. Always were." The elderly duck closed his eyes and slowly shook his head, covering his face with a wing. "It was my fault. From the very beginnin', it was all my fault."
Donald didn't know how to respond. Maybe it was. Maybe it was Scrooge's fault. Partially, or completely, maybe it was. But they had both spent ten years thinking that very same thing. Donald believed it was time for that age to end.
Scrooge exhaled. "Truth be told, you all would be better off without me."
Suddenly, Donald ground his beak in anger. Anger at Scrooge, yes, but a different kind of anger than the type he had been experiencing for the past ten years. The kind that questioned why the old man was so resistant, so opposed to the concept that he had other people who loved him and cared for him, who needed him.
And needed them, as well.
"Those boys," Donald paused. "They - they need you, Uncle Scrooge. I need you. Don't ya dare suggest otherwise for one damn second, you hear me?"
Silence.
"I said, do you hear me?"
Scrooge raised his head and turned around to face Donald. Donald couldn't tell if it was just the rain or if Scrooge's face was wet with tears.
"I - I dream often." Scrooge began. "I dream of a treasured day when everything just... returns to normal. I feel no more guilt, ye're no longer mad at me, the children trust me again." He had a distant look in his eyes. Was he there, right now? "...And - and she's there, and we're all together." He placed a hand over his heart. "But... often times I'll wake up from those dreams feelin'..." He lowered his head and pinched his eyes shut. "...Feelin' worse than from the nightmares."
The man's cane faltered beneath his weight. Donald gave himself a moment before he stepped forward and pulled the older man closer. He felt Scrooge dig his fingers into the back of his shirt with a muffled sob.
He rubbed circles into Scrooge's back until he could feel the older duck's breathing gradually even out. The silent moment offered a minute where they both could reflect on their shared grief in the presence of eachother, rather than apart, as it had always been up until this point.
The moon shone briefly through the rainclouds.
"...Uncle Scrooge?" Donald asked.
"Mm?"
"You never answered me."
Scrooge gave a weak laugh. "My hearing isn't what it used to be, lad."
Glancing up at the sky, Donald knew it would be best to get inside before the cold took them both.
Gradually, they made their way back into the manor. Scrooge directed them toward the lounge, where Donald settled Scrooge into a loveseat that sat right in front of a window, allowing view of the rain.
Donald grabbed a folded up quilt sitting on top of a nearby footstool and unfolded it on top of the loveseat that Scrooge sat, where Donald soon joined him.
Donald snickered. "Cold ain't good for those brittle bones, huh oldie?"
"Och," Scrooge lightheartedly groaned. "don't y' start now. I've suffered many a night worse than this back in the Klondike."
Donald rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I heard it all before."
"By the way-" Scrooge squinted his eyes at the blanket. "Is this one of Hortense's quilts? I don't recall allowin' Beakley 'ta bring them from storage."
"This is one of mine." Donald patted the fabric reminiscently. "I took a few after moving out from the mansion. Managed to not catch it on fire, if ya can believe it." He did, however, have to hang it out to dry after Mrs. B sunk the houseboat. He's still mad at her for that.
Scrooge suddenly smiled and closed his eyes in recollection. "Aha, I remember when Hortense tried 'ta teach y' how to sew. She didn't get very far, did she?"
"-Nah." Donald's expression echoed Scrooge's as he recalled those memories. "I didn't have the patience to learn and she didn't have the patience to teach. It was thanks'ta Grandma I learned." It was thanks to his grandmother he learned how to do a lot, in fact. "Heaven knows that gal's got the patience to deal with'a hundred ducklings like me."
The next several minutes continued with the two recollecting fond memories of similar times. But inevitably the two began to succumb to slumber. Scrooge falling a bit quicker than Donald, the younger duck watched the other slowly drift off amidst watching the rain fall from where they sat. Donald didn't oppose to joining him in sleep.
The warm porchlight of the houseboat stayed lit through the night, and the gentle tears the sky wept below had left the land content and the sea calm.
And though the land and the sea missed the sky, it was beyond reach.
However, no one ever said anything otherwise about the family's tenacity for achieving the impossible.