boy howdy this chapter ended up being longer than i thought it would be, AND harder to write. yeesh. thank you so much to the folks who commented, you really helped me power through. i'm really glad i'm not the only one enjoying this!

anyway, if you like what i do and want to support me, i now have a ko-fi! and if there's something specific you want me to write, i'm also doing commissions! (links for both are in the description of my tumblr art-gelato)

Chap 2: Launchpad McQuack

A paper airplane floated across the room and did a nosedive into Martha's fortunately empty coffee mug. Martha looked at it, then at the small office's other occupant.

Ted Higgins, a grey duck in his mid-thirties, punched the air. "I can't believe that worked!" he said. "How many points?"

"Zero," Martha replied, picking up the plane. "Don't you have something you should be doing?"

Ted dropped his head to his desk and groaned. With a flick of her wrist, Martha sent the plane gliding back. It skidded over a stack of papers and bumped to a stop against the top of Ted's beak. He half-heartedly flicked at it with one finger.

Martha stood up and grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair, and Ted lifted his head curiously. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Duckburg," she replied as she shrugged the jacket on. "I have a meeting with a client's former employer."

"Ooh, field trip," Ted said, propping his chin in his hand. "Bring me back a souvie?"

"Only if you promise to get work done while I'm gone," Martha said with an exaggeratedly serious look at him.

He put his right hand over his heart and held up three fingers. "Scout's honor, Ma."

Martha retrieved her keys and picked up her briefcase. "I'll hold you to that, Teddy," she said, heading for the door.

Ted waved goodbye. "Drive safe, Marty."

Giving him a smile, Martha stepped out into the hallway, letting the door swing shut behind her. She'd known Ted for as long as he'd been a social worker, which was coming up on six years now. Despite the differences in their personalities and the fact that she was about twenty years his senior, they'd gotten along well from the start – which was fortunate, considering they had to share an office space. Especially since the office was so small.

But, well, that was just underappreciated government work for you.

Martha didn't have to double-check the address to make sure she was in the right place, and hadn't even really needed a map to get there. Scrooge McDuck's Money Bin was both unmistakable and unmissable.

When she entered the lobby, the first person she ran into was a young girl, perhaps around Gosalyn's age.

"Oh, hello!" the girl said, smiling at Martha. "Are you here to see Uncle Scrooge?"

Martha blinked down at her. "Yes, I have an appointment."

"Great!" the girl replied, and held up a brown paper bag. "I'm bringing him lunch so he doesn't forget to eat, you can come with me!"

"Shouldn't I check in with reception?" Martha asked, but it was too late. The girl grabbed Martha's hand and began towing her towards the elevator.

"You're with me, so it's fine," the girl said as she pressed the button to call the elevator. The doors opened almost immediately. "I'm Webby, by the way. What's your name?"

"Martha," Martha said, following Webby into the elevator. "Mr. McDuck is your uncle?"

"Not actually." Webby hit the button for the top floor. "My granny's his housekeeper. But he said I could call him Uncle, so I do. What are you here to see him for?"

"Just… business stuff," Martha said.

Webby nodded in understanding. "Uncle Scrooge has a lot of business stuff," she said.

They reached the top floor quickly, and Webby ran out ahead of Martha and burst through the large double doors at the end of the hallway with a shout of, "Good afternoon, Uncle Scrooge!"

The elderly duck standing in front of a bookcase inside nearly dropped his book in surprise. "Good lord, Webby," he said, placing the book on the shelf. "Ye scared me half to death."

"I brought lunch!" Webby said, seeming not to hear him.

Scrooge McDuck accepted the paper bag when Webby held it out to him. "I suppose I haven't eaten since breakfast, have I," he mused. "Thank you, Webbigail."

Webby beamed up at him. "No problem! Also, your next appointment is here."

"My-?" McDuck looked to where Martha was standing in the doorway. "Didn't ye check in with reception?" he asked rather crossly.

"I would've, but I didn't get the chance," Martha replied with a small gesture to Webby.

"I brought her with me," Webby said happily.

McDuck glanced down at his honorary niece, his irritation fading. "I appreciate the, uh, initiative," he said gently, "but next time, let the receptionist do her job, alright?"

"Alright!"

"Good lass. Run along now, and I'll eat this in a bit."

After Webby scampered off, Martha said, "She's a sweet girl."

"Aye, and strong willed, at that." McDuck beckoned Martha into the office, settling behind his desk. "Have a seat, Ms. Brandgás."

"Thank you for taking the time to meet me, Mr. McDuck," Martha said, sliding into the chair in front of his desk.

"It's no trouble," McDuck replied. "It's certainly a welcome reprieve from endless board meetings. And, well, I have to admit this is all rather interesting. Launchpad is adopting a little girl…?"

The slight incredulous note in the old duck's tone wasn't lost on Martha. "No, but he's moving in with someone who is."

McDuck snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes! Drake something or other, wasn't it?"

"Drake Mallard," Martha said. "You already know?"

"Oh, aye," McDuck said, somewhat resignedly. "Launchpad sends me letters once a week, telling me all about whatever nonsense is going on with him. Trouble is, coherent writing's nae exactly one of his strong suits." He sighed and added, "Just d'nae tell him I actually read them, or he'll start sending me more."

Martha smiled inwardly. "Launchpad seems like more than just a former employee to you."

McDuck shrugged. "He may as well be part of the family. I first hired him when he was… oh, eighteen? He was cheap and out of his heid – so, perfect for the job. Then the boys came along, and they took to him straightaway."

"Boys?"

"Me nephews," McDuck replied. "They've been living with me these past few years. I can tell ye for certain that Launchpad is good with kids. I've trusted him with their lives on numerous occasions, and he's never let me down."

At this, Martha's brow furrowed. "Their lives? What exactly was his job with you? I was under the impression he's a pilot."

"In a loose sense of the word," McDuck said with a grimace. "But yes, he is. He's flown me to just about every corner of the globe, and quite a few unlikelier places as well. I made most of my fortune treasure hunting, and ye cannae do that without facing some danger and making some mortal enemies. Launchpad was invaluable by my side in every perilous situation we ended up in. His brain's empty enough to have an echo in, but he's a reliable lad."

"Then why let him go?"

McDuck sighed. "Lately, I've had to focus more on the business aspect of my business," he replied. "It hasn't left me much time for adventuring, unfortunately. I couldnae just keep Launchpad on indefinite standby – he gets restless with naught to do after a while. I've called him up a couple of times since to take me somewhere, but I d'nae have the heart to keep him cooped up here when he could be getting on with his own life." A small smile twitched at the corner of his beak. "He seems to be doing rather well for himself, I think."

Martha thought of the house on Avian Way and its inhabitants. "Yes," she said. "I believe he is."

Martha spent the drive back to St. Canard deep in thought, with a brief stop to grab a donut for Ted. Her talk with Scrooge McDuck had provided her with far more insight into Launchpad's character than she'd expected to get. Former employers usually just discussed a person's professional merits (or lack thereof), but McDuck seemed to have an almost paternalistic view of Launchpad.

Her initial assessment of Launchpad (amiable, sincere, trustworthy) had been proven accurate, but that was just if he was taken at face value. There was more to him than that, and Martha was starting to get a better view of the whole.

And something nagged at her.

He'd spent more than a decade globetrotting with a world-(in)famous adventurer, and now he was settling down in a quiet suburban neighborhood with a freshly-formed family. McDuck had said that Launchpad got restless without anything to do, and he hadn't had anything to do except repair planes since McDuck retired. Martha knew from experience that when you'd lived a fast-paced life for so long, it was hard to live slower. It might feel like a welcome break at first, but an itch inevitably started, saying you could be doing more – and after a year, someone as energetic as Launchpad was surely feeling that itch. Would moving in with a new family really scratch it?

"I'm always happy to help," he'd said, and Martha didn't doubt it.

But she did wonder if it was enough.

"Marty, I just met the cutest guy at Starducks," Ted sighed as he set a cardboard cup on Martha's desk.

"Did you now," Martha replied dryly. She popped the lid off the cup and poured the coffee into her own mug, which had WORLD'S BEST MOM stamped on it in flowery letters. "And are you in love?"

Ted sat down at his desk on the opposite side of the room. "I'm going to marry him," he declared, doing the same thing with his coffee.

Martha sipped from her mug. "What happened to Jason from the hardware store?"

"He has a girlfriend," Ted replied mournfully. "Such a shame."

"Isn't that just the way," Martha said, without much sympathy. Ted was a sucker for a pretty face and had a flair for the dramatic, and it was highly unlikely his disappointment ran below surface-level. "So did you actually meet this guy, or just stare wistfully across the room at him?"

"Oh, ye of little faith," Ted said, grinning at her. "I gave him my number, and we're meeting for lunch on Saturday."

Martha arched an eyebrow. "Well, color me impressed," she said.

There was a knock, and then the door to the office swung open. "Hey, Martha!" Launchpad said as he stepped inside. He looked around, and his eyebrows went up in surprise. "Oh, Ted! Hi!"

Ted choked on his coffee.

Martha narrowed her eyes, a suspicion forming. "Have you two met before?"

"Yeah!" Launchpad replied cheerily. "Just a little while ago, at the Starducks on the corner."

Ted swallowed a nervous laugh. "Small world, huh?"

"I'll say!" Launchpad said.

Ted glanced between Martha and Launchpad, seemingly unable to think of a response, so Martha came to his rescue. "Why don't you have a seat, Launchpad?" she said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk.

Launchpad sat, the old chair creaking a little under his weight. "So you just have some stuff you want me to sign?" he asked uncertainly.

"Pretty much," Martha replied, retrieving a file from one of her drawers and handing it to him. "It shouldn't take too long."

As he accepted the file and a pen, he noticed her mug. "How many kids do you have?" he asked, motioning to it.

"Just Ted," she replied with a wry smile, pointing past Launchpad to her coworker, who had put on a pair of headphones to give them some privacy. "He got it for me as a joke a couple years ago." It was something of a tradition of theirs, giving mugs to each other as presents. The one Ted was currently drinking out of, labeled OKAY GUY, was his most recent holiday gift from her. "Now, if you'll look at the first document…"

Getting the paperwork sorted out with Launchpad took a little longer than she thought it would. While Launchpad was happy to just sign on the dotted line without question (a somewhat worrying trait), there were some aspects she had to make sure he understood, which occasionally involved telling him things more than once and having him repeat them back to her. He was also easily distracted, and enjoyed sharing amusing anecdotes, which were mostly stories about crashes he'd been in – or, rather, crashes he'd caused (another, much more worrying trait).

Still, they managed to get through the meeting, and without crashing anything. "Before you go," Martha said as she took the now filled-out documents back, "there's one last thing I was wondering about. Why are you moving in with the Mallards?"

Launchpad blinked, puzzled. "To help."

"So you've said," Martha replied. "But you haven't known either of them for very long. Moving in with a new family like this… it's a lot of responsibility. You might not be Gosalyn's legal guardian, but you're still going to be looking after her in some capacity. I'm not objecting, but why go to all the trouble for two people who are all but strangers?"

Launchpad looked down at his hands, giving it some serious thought. "Honestly, they're the ones helping me," he said at last, his usually boisterous voice going soft. "Up until a few weeks ago, I was basically living out of the airplane hangar I work in. And ever since Mr. McDee stopped adventuring so much, I haven't really had a whole lot going on in my life." He twisted his fingers together. "Dee- Drake and Gos… They're the best things to happen to me in a while. It's real good of Drake to let me live with them."

Martha contemplated this for a moment. "You met Drake first, didn't you?"

Launchpad smiled. "Sure did," he said, then chuckled. "I don't think he particularly cared for me to begin with, but I did almost knock his lights out before we were properly introduced." It took him a second to realize this called for clarification, and he continued, "It was the middle of the night, and I thought he was trying to break into my hangar. But actually, he- uh, he needed some help getting, um, back into the city. Then we… happened to run into each other again the next day, and then there was the accident, and… well, I guess you could say the rest is history. Funny how things work out, huh?"

It felt like there was more to this story that Launchpad was intentionally skimming over, but Martha wasn't sure how important it was to get the details – or if it was even relevant to anything. Perhaps it was just one more thing she'd find out over time. "It's certainly interesting," Martha said. "You think pretty highly of him, don't you?"

"Oh, he's great!" Launchpad replied, beaming. "I know he acts prickly, but he's really a good guy. His people skills are just a bit rusty." He rubbed the back of his neck, and added rather apologetically, "I'm sure he'll warm up to you soon enough."

"I hope so," Martha said. "Without his trust, I can only do so much to help. But don't worry about it. I'll figure out a way in." She smiled. "It's my job, after all."

At that moment, Launchpad's phone dinged, and he checked it. "Speaking of jobs," he said, pocketing his phone again, "that was mine. I gotta go, unless there's anything else you need."

"No, that's it," Martha replied. "Thank you for coming in."

"No problemo," Launchpad said, standing up. "See you later, Martha. And see you Saturday, Ted!"

Ted jerked in surprise at being directly addressed, and he looked up from his work, pulling down his headphones. "Oh, yeah! See you, Launchpad."

With one last wave, Launchpad disappeared out the door.

In the silence that followed, Ted fiddled with his pen nervously.

"It's fine, Teddy," Martha said, realizing what was on Ted's mind. "He's my client, not yours."

The tension left Ted's shoulders. "I thought it seemed like shaky territory," he admitted.

"Well, it's not like you met him through me. It was just by chance." Martha drummed her fingers on her desk, staring off into space.

"Hey, Earth to Marty?"

Her attention snapped back, and she looked at Ted, who was watching her with concern.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Martha glanced down at the closed file on her desk. "I'm not sure," she said at last. "There's just something about one of my cases. It all seems fine, but… Well, the thing I'm having trouble wrapping my head around is how fast the girl was adopted." She opened the file, rifling absently through the pages. "It took a week for all the paperwork to go through, and for her to start living with the father."

Ted's eyes went wide. "Like… a week from him meeting the kid?"

Martha nodded.

"Like… one week? She started living with him after one week?"

"Yes, Teddy."

He put a hand to his forehead. "But that… that should take months."

"I know, Teddy." Martha sighed and closed the file. "He has all the appropriate background checks and certifications, but he was house-hunting during the process. He's a single parent who did not, at the time, have a fixed abode, and yet the paperwork went through cleanly and quickly. I thought there might have been some kind of mix-up somewhere, but the higher-ups say there's no problem."

Ted frowned in thought. "Is he rich?"

"Hardly," Martha replied. "He does data entry for some agency called Stones Accounting."

Ted perked up. "I read that that company is a front for S.H.U.S.H.," he said, getting a familiar gleam in his eye.

Martha pinched the bridge of her beak. "And on which conspiracy theory website did you read it?" she asked wearily.

"That's not important," Ted replied. "But S.H.U.S.H. would have the power to-"

Martha held up a hand, cutting Ted off. "He isn't on the payroll of a top-secret super-spy organization that may or may not exist, because this isn't a cartoon or a comic book," she said, determined to shut this down before he started drawing diagrams. "And I'd really, really appreciate it if you didn't add any of my clients to your wall of conspiracies."

Ted slouched in his chair. "It's only one corkboard," he muttered.

"A big corkboard," Martha replied. "I've seen it."

Grumbling, Ted returned to his paperwork.

And, without her realizing, Martha's subconscious filed away Ted's words in the back of her mind somewhere.